A Dark Past, and A Brighter Future
by Baeowulf
Summary: Delchkah Amori, leader of the Dark Brotherhood, leaves the guild, killing the last of the black hand. His life changed when he accidentally murdered Ocheeva, the woman he loved, but with the arrival of Soul-Swimmer, he has another chance... T for violence
1. The Encounter

Hey everyone! My second story is up, I hope you enjoy! I'm doing this one on my own, so if there are any errors, please let me know and I will fix them right away! Also, if anything said here is inaccurate to the game Oblivion, PM me and I will do my best to correct the problems!

And now, for our feature presentation...

* * *

Delchkahn Amori skulked through the wilderness, annoyed by the bright sunlight streaming through the bows of the trees above him. Even though he had recently cured his vampirism, the sun still bothered him. He leaned against a tree, clad in his Dark Brotherhood armor, lost in memories of the guild he had left leaderless when he abandoned it. He thought of his greatest mistake in life, of how following a contract would leave him empty and hollow. He remembered when he purged the Cheydinhall Sanctuary. He had been disgusted by most of the heartless killers there, but one of the assassins had stood out to him, as though she had belonged somewhere other than that dismal place: Ocheeva. A tear formed in his eye at the memory of her, her voice, her scent, her eyes. He remembered killing the last of the assassins other than her, that brutish orc, before she ambushed him. He whipped around in self defense, and to his horror, realized he had stabbed her, straight through her belly. He remembered how he had gently laid her on the ground, holding her hand in his as she died. He remembered the last question she had asked him: "Why?"

* * *

Soul-Swimmer skulked through the Cheydinhall Sanctuary, just a few short weeks after the purging. She could smell the blood in the walls, and she hated it. She was wearing her new suit of Dark Brotherhood armor, and she hated the uncomfortable clinginess of the cuirass, which had obviously been recycled from a deceased male member of the guild, and the way the hood cramped her head fins. She had falsified her birth papers to show that she had been born under the sign of the Shadow not so that she would be accepted into the guild as a Shadowscale, but to gain free immigration into Cyyrodiil without having to fear passing through Leyawiin and the risk of its Countess, who is rumored to torture and murder Argonian immigrants. The small problem now, however, was that she was stuck in the brotherhood. If she tried to leave, the guild would hunt her down and kill her, and if she stayed, she would eventually wind up the same way as its legendary leader, Delchkahn Amori. She had no idea what had happened to the poor man, but she had noticed how haunted he looked, and the deep regret etched into his young, bright-purple features. The flexible spines that topped his head were always unkempt, and whenever he returned to the sanctuary, he smelt of cheap wine. She had once even seen him execute a member for performing an un-contracted killing, saying that he had been "risking the secrecy of the Brotherhood with his careless actions". But she knew that something had happened to him, something that had turned him from being an assassin who killed for the thrill of the hunt into a haunted, tired man, who was far beyond his years in sadness. This belief was reinforced in her when Delchkahn Amori, the Shadow's Shadow, the Blade in the Night, the fabled Deathhunter, disappeared, leaving the rest of the members of the Black Hand slain. She knew that she had to find him. She knew that he was her only chance of getting out of the Brotherhood alive.

* * *

_Delchkahn crouched in the shadows, and fired his first arrow. It struck M'raaj Dar in the back, and the evil Khajiit cried out in pain as the arrow froze his blood while electrifying him at the same time. His skin ruptured, and his eyes became solid balls of ice in their sockets. Almost immediately, the skeletal guardians of the sanctuary attacked, their claymores swinging past the lithe Argonian's head, flying just a few centimeters past his skull. A few slices from his blade, FrostFire, and their husks were frozen and ignited almost simultaneously, and the two skeletons crumbled into dust. Antoinette Marie charged him, and with a quick jab, he plunged his blade through her chest, impaling the filthy wench's black heart. As one, Teinaava and Vicente charged him, swords at the ready. While it pained him to kill his love's twin brother, he entered battle with the two. A swift kick to Valtieri's skull stunned the vampire, the very vampire who had given Amori his strength and agility, allowing Amori to turn and fight Teinaava. As the red-scaled Argonian charged, he yelled "I won't let you touch my sister! I'll die before I let you kill her, 'brother'!" Teinaava spat the last word at Amori, and lunged at him, sword leading. Amori sidestepped, and grabbed Teinaava's arm in two places, snapping it like a twig. Teinaava howled in pain before Amori put an arrow through his skull, silencing him forever. "Fool," he said coldly, "I love your sister, I would never hurt her!" Just as he turned around, he saw Valtieri's blade coming down towards his head. With lightning-fast reflexes, Delchkahn rolled out of the way, and as he stood, he led with his blade, shoving FrostFire's tip up under Valtieri's ribcage. The vampire screamed as the fire surged through his body, and crumbled into a pile of bones and ash. Then, that blundering fool Gogron stumbled out of the mess hall, smelling of beer and cheap meat. Amori tossed an apple at the orc's open mouth, lodging it between the idiot's teeth, and rushed the green monstrosity. Pulling the steak knife from the orc's belt, Amori stabbed it through the apple and out the back of gro-Bolmog's head, blood spraying out behind the startled orc's body. As the heavy orc tumbled to the ground, Amori began cleaning his blade. "I hope Ocheeva's still asleep," he thought to himself, blushing slightly as he remembered their "activities" the previous night. Little did he know, she was already awake, and was creeping up behind him. Delchkahn heard something and whipped around, only to see Ocheeva flying towards him holding a blade, still in her underwear. Too late he tried to lower his sword, and he watched in horror as its tip plunged into Ocheeva's tender belly. She gasped, and—_

Delchkahn sat up, panting heavily on the stiff roll-out mattress he had made his bed while in the wilderness. He had had that nightmare for the past three nights in a row, that haunting memory of how he had destroyed his only chance at happiness. Only then did he notice the young female Argonian crouched above him. As he saw the Brotherhood uniform she wore, he lashed out in rage. He leaped forward, surprising the young female, and carried her to the ground. He punched her across the jaw, and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing, crushing her windpipe in his hand. She kicked and struggled as he carried her to the tree he had been sleeping against, her face growing paler by the second, her eyes wide as she searched for oxygen. He lifted her into the air, and slammed her back against the tree. He heard a satisfying crunch as one of her ribs snapped, and felt as the wood gave way under the impact, sending splinters into her back. She tried to cry out, but all that exited her mouth was a small gargle and a trickle of blood. "What does the Brotherhood think they're doing, sending a novice against me!" he raged, pressing his hand even harder against her neck. The female's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and her attempts at loosening his hands and her kicking grew weaker. "Tell me who the new Black Hand is, I want to pay them a visit!" he demanded, loosening his grip just enough for his prisoner to gasp out a few words. She coughed, blood spraying from her mouth as she tried to use her tongue for vocalization.

"Please…" she gasped, her voice barely audible, "didn't send… ran a-away…" As she said this, Amori snapped. How dare this pitiful excuse for an assassin try to lie to him! His eyes widened, and he flung her through the air to land in the dust. She let out a small gargle of pain as her ribs snapped, unable to scream because of the blood welling in her mouth. She coughed, blood spewing from her gullet, and tried to crawl away, terrified, too weak to stand. Amori walked over to her slowly, and turned her over so that she was lying on her back. He drew FrostFire, the blade he had come to call Woe as opposed to its true name, and held it up to her slender neck. She gasped as it cut the skin, wincing inpain as she felt the wound freeze and burn simultaneously.

"Now," spat Amori, inwardly wondering why he was wasting his time interrogating a lowly Initiate, "tell me the truth, and you might live. Who sent you, and where are they?" The female looked hesitant. "What are you waiting for?" Delchkahn demanded, furious, wondering if he should just kill her and be done with it, "SPEAK!" The female motioned to his sword, and he realized that it was so close to her neck that if she did speak, it would slit her throat. He pulled his blade away about a centimeter, and the female took a long, deep breath.

"Nobody sent me," she coughed hoarsely, unable to wipe her mouth as blood trickled down her lip. Her eyes widened in horror as Amori pushed his blade closer to her neck, leaving her just enough space to whisper. "I… I can prove it!" she whispered, fearing for her life. Amori hesitated; normally being threatened by his blade could make anybody spill in a matter of seconds. Also, although he was no longer a vampire, he still had a knack for hearing a heartbeat at a distance, and although hers was fast, terrified, it was not the erratic one of a liar. He drew his blade back… and slid it into the scabbard he kept on his back, even while asleep. The young female slumped against the tree, breathing heavily. "Check… check my pockets… you will find… a note. It's from… from an assassin who is chasing me, toying with me before he closes in for the kill. Please… I'm not lying…" Tears began to well in her eyes, and she thought "do I die today? I don't want to die!" Amori began to search the limp female's body, and sure enough, he found the note. It read:

_My dear little swamp flower,_

_Did you honestly think that you could escape the Brotherhood? Did you honestly believe that you could dishonor the Dark Lord Sithis and go unpunished? I will tell you now that you cannot, and that I am coming to kill you, you beautiful little thing! Who knows? Maybe we can have a little "fun" before I kill you? If you don't resist, I may just let you live…_

_My regards,_

_Rhiihaaj._

_We will meet again._

Delchkahn's hand trembled as he crumpled the note in his hand, throwing it to the floor, angry at both himself and what the Khajiit assassin had written. "Filthy Khajiit!" he thought, "It's not bad enough that he's in the Brotherhood, but he's trying to get a woman to sleep with him as a possible way not to die?! If I ever see this Rhiihaaj, I'll kill him!" He knelt over the Argonian woman, his gentle eyes calming her pounding heart. "Sorry about earlier," he said apologetically, "I thought the Brotherhood sent you to dispose of their renegade leader. I should have realized that this wasn't true when I didn't wake up dead!" He chuckled to himself, realizing that since she had been there when he woke up, she had had innumerable opportunities to slit his throat while he slept. "Tell me, what's your name?" The female blushed before she replied.

"I am Soul-Swimmer, and… and you didn't get dressed before you attacked me…"

Delchkahn looked down at himself and blushed; he was still in his underwear! "Uhm, you stay here, and I'll go get some clothes on…" he said, more than a little embarrassed to be standing in front of a female, a young, beautiful female, no less, wearing almost nothing.

"No problem with that…" Soul-Swimmer said with a small laugh. She smiled, and fell into a much needed sleep, unable to resist the pull of unconsciousness any longer.

* * *

ooh! A mysterious female, and a broken-hearted man! She is a lowly novice, while he is a master assassin who has put down his swords because of regret for past actions! What will happen between the two? Will Delchkahn Amori ever let go of Ocheeva? Will Soul-Swimmer escape Rhiihaaj? Only time will tell...


	2. Emotions Past and Present

Hello again! I just finished the second chapter, so here it is! This story is written by me, Baeowulf, by the way (just clarifying that because my co-author and I share an account), and while my co-author and I may do some stories together, I'm doing this one on my own. And, now, the hated disclaimer (dun dun DUUUUN!): I do not own Oblivion or any game characters or races, but I DO own Rhiihaaj, Seylia, Delchkahn Amori, Jehliij, and Sehirii, as well as Amori's trademark wilted rose insignia, so THERE!

And now, back to our feature presentation...

* * *

Delchkahn Amori sat, leaning against a tree across from Soul-Swimmer, clad in his Brotherhood armor. On the shoulder, he had rubbed off the bloody handprint symbol of the guild, and replaced it with a painting of a wilted rose. He sat, gazing at the vibrant, young form across from him, so full of life. He smiled, thinking to himself. "What's happening to me?" he thought, laughing inwardly, "She's just a novice, a relatively unskilled peasant! She has nothing, and she'll never come close to being Ocheeva…" At the thought of that name, he felt a pang in his heart, a reminder of the horrible things he had done. He had been lucky in that most of his contracts had concerned bad people with death on their hands, but the one that would allow him to rid the world of a number of cold-blooded killers would cost him his love. "I'm so sorry, Ocheeva. I'm so sorry." Tears formed in his eyes, and he found himself turning to gaze once more at Soul-Swimmer's sleeping form. "Great Akatosh, I'm a fool!" he scolded himself, angry that he was beginning to harbor feelings for the female opposite him. "She's unskilled, naïve, and takes unnecessary risks! Why am I attracted to her? Maybe it's something about her eyes, so innocent, so kind…" He was started out of his reverie as Soul-Swimmer began to wake, her eyes slowly sliding open, bringing her hand up to her forehead. When she saw Amori sitting across from her, her eyes widened and she tried to scoot backwards, only to find herself up against the tree.

"Gods, what does he want?" she thought, terrified of the purple Argonian across from her as she remembered what had happened earlier. She glanced down at herself, more than a little relieved to see that she was still wearing her armor and that there were no claw marks in it. "You—you're not going to kill me, are you?" she asked, her voice trembling in fear. Amori laughed.

"Kill you?" he laughed, unable to control himself, his tired eyes shining brightly for the first time in months, "I'm not going to kill you! If I was, I would have done it three days ago and saved myself the trouble!" Soul-Swimmer gasped as she heard this.

"Three days?"

"Yup!"

"I've been out for three days?!"

Amori's smile vanished. "Yes, three days you were healing from that beating I gave you. We should get moving, I'm surprised Rhiihaaj hasn't found us yet. Say, you look familiar… Have I seen you before?" Delchkahn asked, puzzled.

"Yes, and you've seen Rhiihaaj, too. Just a couple weeks ago, actually." Soul-Swimmer steadied herself, thinking back to that day. "When we first joined the Brotherhood, Rhiihaaj would always tease me, calling me things like 'scaly' and 'slit-eye', but he seemed nice enough, and we became friends. Eventually, he wanted to be more than just friends, and he was very forward about it, too." Soul-Swimmer blushed, remembering the many suggestive comments the sly Khajiit had made. "Just a couple days after our first date, he, well, he wanted to get me into bed. I said no, but he wouldn't take that for an answer, and so he picked me up around the waist and tossed me onto the mattress. I go up, and slapped him across the face." Soul-Swimmer smiled deviously. "I forgot to retract my claws. Unfortunately, Rhiihaaj lost it. He punched me in the gut, and then across the face. I could smell the drink in his breath, and I realized that he was drunk, and much more dangerous. He probably would've killed me, had you not intervened. It was at the moment that he had me by the neck that you heard the commotion and walked in. Rhiihaaj, never being one for words, told you to get your, well, let's gloss over that particular phrase, out of his business. Your reply was a quick jab to his face, and a decision to beat the living flames out of him. After handing him his tail, you left, not even showing signs that you had just been in a fistfight. No heavy breathing, no anger left on your face, nothing." Soul-Swimmer's smile vanished. "I'm afraid Rhiihaaj took that rather personally. The last thing he said to was a promise that I would die by his hand. We… We haven't spoken since."

"Wow," sighed Amori, chuckling under his breath, "so THAT'S where I recognized you from! You sure do have a knack for trouble, Soul-Swimmer! Say, no offense, but your name feel's odd on the tongue, and I know that it's not Argonian based. Is there anything else I can call you?"

"I suppose," replied Soul-Swimmer thoughtfully, "you could call me Seylia." She smiled. It had been a long time since she had used her native name that her parents had given her, and she enjoyed the ability to share it with someone. "There's a long road ahead of me," she thought, smiling. "At least I'm with the right person."

* * *

Rhiihaaj jogged up to the forest, following the tracks and scent of Soul-Swimmer. He reached a hand to his face, fingering the scars she had left him with. They ran over his right eye and down his cheek, ending when they reached his neck. He grimaced as he felt the bare flesh that her claws had left there, his blood red fur had never grown back over where she had clawed him. He gave a signal, and a group of Khaajiit bandits slipped out of their hiding places. They were eager for blood, and eager for the coin Rhiihaaj was offering. He grinned. "Those idiots," he thought, "They'll not receive any of my coins, only slit throats and punctured lungs!" He grinned wider, baring his sharp teeth. "And as for you, my dear Swamp Flower, I made a promise." He drew his blade, and with his band trailing behind him, made his way into the forest. "A promise I intend to keep!"

* * *

Amori jogged through the forest, Seylia following close behind him. While he had to go slower than he normally would in order for her to be able to keep up, he enjoyed the company of someone who honestly thought of him as a person as opposed to a weapon, something to be used and then cast aside, or gave him the false admiration of an inferior. The admiration had only grown worse since he defeated Dagon and his deadra; now practically all of Cyyrodiil proffered the endless praise of "the vampire who fought the deadra". He smiled; recognition had decreased considerably since he cured his vampirism in Deepscorn Hollow, that dark, underground hole he called home. He stopped when he heard panting, and turned to see Seylia clutching her stomach. "Seylia, what's wrong?" he said, slightly worried that she was injured.

"Don't worry," she replied. Delchkahn almost blushed as she lifted her head towards him, her light blue scales glinting in the afternoon sunlight. He gazed into her eyes, and really did blush when he noticed that she was leaning over, allowing him to look down her… He quickly averted his eyes, looking back into hers. "I'm just hungry, that's all," she said. As if to emphasize her point, her stomach rumbled loudly just then. Amori smacked himself in the forehead.

"I'm such an idiot!" he thought, embarrassed, "Here I am, admiring her… body, and I forgot that she's eaten nothing but healing potions for the past three days!" He reached into his backpack, and withdrew a large piece of dried meat. It was venison, and was a very high quality cut; salted with natural sea salt, and seasoned with spices and herbs imported from the Black Marsh. "Here," he said, giving Seylia the meat, while inwardly cursing himself. "Amori you idiot! That meat cost a fortune! She's a novice, she'll just drag you down! You should abandon her to fend for herself in the first city you find!" His rational mind screamed at him. He knew she was unskilled and probably poor, and he knew she would never be able to repay him for the price of the meat. But, while his rational mind ranted away, his heart felt differently. "Ocheeva's dead," he thought, "and nothing can bring her back. Would she really want me to sulk alone for the rest of my life? Perhaps it's time that I moved on…" Just as he thought this, he noticed a sword sticking out from the bushes behind Seylia. "MOVE!" he shouted, and shoved Seylia to the ground roughly. In one fluid motion, he pulled his bow out from behind his back, pulled an arrow from his quiver, drew back the bow string, and let fly, just as the Khaajiit bandit leaped out from his hiding place. His eyes widened in surprise as the charged arrow sunk itself into his head right between his eyes, sending him flying backwards and nailing his body to a tree. His body jerked as electricity discharged through it, and the flesh around the wound caked with ice. Seylia stood, staring in amazement at the dead Khaajiit.

"How… How did you do that?!" she asked incredulously.

"Lots of practice, come on, looks like your friend Rhiihaaj is on the move, and it looks like he's brought a few friends with him." Amori grabbed Seylia's hand, and they ran through the forest.

* * *

Rhiihaaj waited impatiently, tapping his booted foot against the soft, mossy ground. It had been half an hour since he send Jehliij on ahead, and he still hadn't returned. A soft, feminine voice piped up behind him; it was Sehiiri, a golden-brown Khajiit. She wore tight-fitting leather armor, studded with glass, accentuating all the right parts of her body. Her cuirass was low-cut, and on the bottom of it revealed her well toned stomach. Her long, brown hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail, with her bangs lying in front of her forehead in clumped strands. Her emerald green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her cheekbones were well formed, and just the right height and accentuation. All in all, she was extremely beautiful. "Perhaps we should go check on him," she purred seductively, sensing her boss' angst and impatience. "Maybe after we kill this little Argonian, we can have a little… celebration." Rhiihaaj grinned.

"Perhaps I'll let this one live…" he thought to himself. Not only was he extremely attracted to Sehiiri, but she was also pretty skilled in both blades and blunt weapons, her weapons of choice being dual-wielding an obsidian mace and shortsword. "I would enjoy that very much, Sehiiri. Alright, let's go!" he called to his group, and they stealthily made their way into the forest. After a short time they came to a tree; a tree with a Khajiit body on it. The body was nailed to the tree by an arrow between its eyes, and jerked every so often from residual electricity. Upon closer examination, Rhiihaaj found that the wound around the arrow was frozen. "Well, it looks like Jehliij met an unfortunate fate, and it looks like our Argonian friend has found some help." For a moment, Rhiihaaj looked puzzled and worried, but then his face spread into a wide grin. "There's only one weapon I know that can make a wound like that: the bow FlashFreeze. And I know who wields it: Delchkahn Amori, former leader of the Dark Brotherhood. Looks like we'll be getting a huge bonus!"

* * *

Oh noes! Rhiihaaj is onto their trail, and he has some help with him! What will happen with Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri? On another topic, it seems that Amori, despite his better judgement, is falling for Seylia, a novice fighter, unskilled in the art of combat! Will he come to his senses, will he fall for Seylia, or will he go COMPLETELY emo and commit suicide to be with Ocheeva (just thought the story needed some random emoness!)? Only time may tell! Until then, read and review, PM me if you want, and if you've played StarFox, check out my other story! Check it out even if you HAVEN'T played StarFox!

The winds of time blow on, and the sands of reality shift in beautiful, unreplicating patterns.

-Baeowulf


	3. Abandonment

Okay, so in the last chapter, Amori kills a bandit and he and Seylia run away. The place they go to is Cheydinhall. By the way, I'll probably be creating new places and new creatures, so my map of Cyrodiil will be different than in the game!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

_Ocheeva gasped as his blade plunged into her belly, FrostFire's deadly tip exiting the other side of her body, her eyes wide. Delchkahn's eyes widened in horror at the realization of what he had just done as Ocheeva coughed blood into his face. He lowered his blade in shock, and Ocheeva slid off its end, her breathing heavy and erratic, tears welling in her eyes. Delchkahn knelt by his lover's side, holding her head in his hands, tears spilling down his cheeks. He barely even noticed his vampire's instinct to feed, barely tasting Ocheeva's blood on his tongue. "Why?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "Why, Delchkahn? Why did you do it? I-I thought y-you loved me." She coughed, more blood spilling down her chin._

"_I do, Ocheeva, I do!" Delchkahn cried, frantically searching his memory for a heal other spell and his pockets for any healing potions, but to no avail. "Lucien Lachance reported a traitor amongst the Brotherhood, and believed him to be in our Sanctuary. He told me I was exempt from the Tenets, and ordered me to purge the Sanctuary! He told me I would be a Speaker!" Tears streamed down his face as he watched his lover, dying in his hands, knowing that it was his fault. Ocheeva coughed, a sudden anger in her eyes, overlaid with the sadness._

"_So y-you would th-throw me away for power?" she asked, shocked._

"_No, no! I never meant for this to happen! I waited for you to fall asleep, and went about my work! I was going to hide you in the forest until this was all over, I'm so sorry!" Ocheeva's eyes began to glaze over, and her coughing got worse. "Ocheeva, look at me, come on, look at me! Everything's going to be alright, don't worry!" Delchkahn said, not sure if he was reassuring himself or her. As she gazed up into his eyes, she saw his tears, and the immeasurable sorrow and desperation in them. She laughed, but her musical laughter quickly degenerated into a coughing fit._

"_So, you really do love me, don't you? Why, Delchkahn? Why…" She gave a final cough, and—_

Delchkahn woke with a start, panting. He found himself in a bed in an inn, and across from his bed was another, Seylia sleeping peacefully in it. Delchkahn began to cry, cursing his life. "What am I doing?" he said quietly to himself. "I can't stay with her, Ocheeva, I'm becoming irrational, and she reminds me too much of you. I know now that you can never be replaced, I only wish we could have had more time together." Delchkahn got out of bed, and quickly got dressed. He walked over to the desk, pulled out a parchment and a quill, and wrote a quick note. As he finished, he gathered his supplies, and walked over to the door. As he opened it, he paused. "Goodbye, Seylia" he said, and shut the door behind him.

Rhiihaaj sat up slowly, his eyelids half closed against the sunlight. His hair was sticking every which way, and his fur was matted in his sweat. He sniffed, and found that his own scent wasn't the only one on him. He looked to the side, and saw Sehiiri sleeping beside him, a slight smile curving her lips, the white sheets, draped over her naked form. She exhaled deeply, and Rhiihaaj smiled. He slowly stood from the bed, grabbed some clothes, and made his way to the bathroom. He took the bucket of hot water the hotel staff had readied for him and Sehiiri, poured it into the bath basin, and slowly slid himself into the water, wincing as it reached the scars that criss-crossed their way across his back, a reminder of his days as a slave in Morrowind. He purred in pleasure as the warm water slid through his fur, and he sat enjoying the warmth for a few moments before grabbing the bar of soap and beginning to wash the dust and sweat from his red coat. After he was finished, he picked up a purification tablet and dropped it into the water. As the tablet dissolved, it released its magic into the water, instantly transmuting any impurities in the water into thick oils that could then be easily scooped out with a sifter. After cleaning the bathwater, he cast a fireball spell into the basin, heating the water so that it wouldn't be cold when Sehiiri woke up. He walked out of the bathroom and put on his clothes. It had been so nice of the hotel staff to offer him and his group a free stay, he thought, grinning at the memory of how he had "persuaded" the manager using all of his prowess with knives. He placed a swift kiss on Sehiiri's muzzle, and walked out of the room.

_Seylia was five years old. She walked through a wrecked village, fires burning over the wreckages of the huts, the light flickering on her tattered white dress. She came to the wreckage of one particular house, the door still left standing. She pushed the door open, and stepped inside. "Mommy? Daddy?" she called, walking past bloodstained walls. As she neared the kitchen she heard sobbing. She opened the door, to see her mother crouching over the body of her father, crying. There was a large gash in his back, and blood covered the floor. A Dunmer stood over both of them, a flaming sword in his hand, grinning evilly. Her mother stood, beating her hands on his bare chest._

"_How could you, you monster! How could y—urk!" Her cries were cut short as the Dunmer grabbed her throat in his left hand, lifting her, kicking, off the ground, desperately trying to pry his hand off of her neck. He grinned drawing his sword arm back, seeing the hatred in her eyes._

"_And now you die, pondscum!" he spat, plunging his sword into Seylia's mother's belly, burning the flesh around it. Her eyes went wide in terror, and the Dunmer pushed her dead body off of his blade. Seylia ran to her mother's side, crying._

"_Mommy? Mommy?! Please wake up!" The Dunmer laughed, drew back his sword arm, and—_

Seylia sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide in terror, screaming "NOOOO!" Almost immediately there was a knock on the door.

"Yew awlright, miss?" came a voice. It was the innkeeper, a kindly old Imperial who had taken an Anvil accent from living in the southern region for so long before coming to Cheydinhall.

"I-I'm f-fine," she stuttered in response, shaking with fear. "J-just a b-bad dream."

"Well, if ye need anything, jest let me know," came a wary response from outside the door. Seylia heard footsteps growing quieter as they left from outside her door. She shuddered at the dream that was a memory from her past, a memory that had spawned an immense phobia of Dunmer in her. She looked around, and noticed that Amori's bed was empty, and seemed to have been so for a long time. She looked to the desk, and saw a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the paper, and found a dagger. She set the dagger, which was of Deadric make, aside, and read the note. It said:

_Dear Soul-Swimmer,_

_I did not use your real name in this note because I do not feel that I am worthy of using it. I'm sorry, but I had to leave. You know nothing about me; I would only bring you trouble. From the moment I met you, I knew that you were curious about why I was such a haunted individual. Well, here goes nothing. Know that I have never told anyone else of the events you are about to read about. If you ever regarded me as a friend, you will keep my secret._

_It was just a couple months before you had joined the guild. I was in love with Ocheeva, a young Shadowscale, and ironically, the very person who had given me contracts when I first joined the guild. I worked directly for Lucien Lachance, a Speaker of the Black Hand. One day, he called me to his castle stronghold to receive a special contract. To my surprise, he was ordering me to kill every Brother and Sister residing in the Cheydinhall Sanctuary in an attempt to eradicate a traitor who had been killing members of our dark "family". My heart froze in fear; Cheydinhall was where Ocheeva lived, and the location of the Sanctuary I called my home. He told me to go, and I quickly formulated a plan: I would wait until Ocheeva was asleep, then kill off the rest of the Brotherhood members, sparing Teinaava, Ocheeva's twin brother if possible. After I had finished my work, I would wake Ocheeva, and take her to a discreet hiding place in the forest; a small mine I had rid of monsters. It seemed foolproof to me, but alas, I was wrong. The night before my act, Ocheeva and I shared a bed. I woke early in the morning, and fought my dark "brothers" and "sisters". If only I knew the commotion had woken my love! She crept up behind me, not having dressed yet, and attacked me. As I was a vampire at the time, I sensed a person in the air behind me, a knife in their hands. I spun around, blade leading, only to realize, too late, that it was Ocheeva. I tried to lower my blade, but I was too late. Ocheeva was impaled on my own sword, its wicked tip plunging into her belly and out her back. She gasped as my blade plunged into her flesh. Shocked, I lowered my sword, and she slid off of my blade. I held her in my arms as she died. The last thing she said to me was a single word: "Why?" I still ask myself this question today, and every time, I come up with the same answer: power. Lachance had told me that I would be made a Speaker on the Black Hand, an offer I could not refuse. Because of this, my hunger for power, I accepted the contract. The woman I love is dead, because of me._

_Soul-Swimmer, I am leaving because you remind me too much of Ocheeva, and because people around me die. I believe that the only reason I stayed with you all the way back to Cheydinhall was that I was subconsciously trying to replace her. I realize now that I can never do that. I led you back to Cheydinhall because it is so close to the Sanctuary that you ran from that the Dark Brotherhood would never suspect you of hiding there. The dagger you found in this note is called Death's Kiss, a blade I fashioned as a replica of the legendary Mehrunes Razor. While not containing the same demonic power as the Razor, it still has the ability to kill with a single blow. This is my parting gift to you, and possibly my parting gift to anyone in this world. I wouldn't be surprised if my body was found in the graveyard over Ocheeva's grave, a grave I commissioned myself, with the true Mehrunes Razor in my chest. If you get there before the guards do, you can have that as well as my other weapons. And, now, I say adieu._

_Goodbye, Soul-Swimmer._

_Goodbye._

Seylia trembled as she read those last words, dropping the parchment in shock. "Great Hist," she thought to herself, "what he's been through…" Tears began to stream down her face. Everyone she had known had either died or cast her aside, and now, her latest and only true friend, had left her behind for her own safety and because she reminded him of the woman he loved, the woman he killed four months ago. She regained her composure quickly, and realized something. Amori had used her true name; the little girl Seylia had died along with her parents all those years ago. Now, Soul-Swimmer, the hardened, independent, young woman remained. She gathered her things and made her way out of the room, her eyes filled with determination, determination that she would not die by the Brotherhood's hand. She placed the money on the innkeeper's desk, and strode out into the daylight. As she walked out the front door, however, she felt something prick her back, and heard a soft, purring voice behind her.

"Well then, my precious Swamp Flower, we meet again!" it purred deviously. Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened in fear as she realized who it was.

"Rhiihaaj!" she gasped before she felt a sharp blow to the back of her neck. The last thing she heard was a malicious chuckle, and her world went black.

* * *

Oh no! Soul-Swimmer has been captured by Rhiihaaj, and Amori is contemplating suicide! What will happen next? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

-Baeowulf

* * *


	4. Waking Up

Hello again!

Sorry for the delay, school just started up again. I'm in high school now! Anyways, I may not be able to keep up my daily post standard, so just warning you to expect longer delays in updates. I will try to update at least twice a week, but I can't make any promises. Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoying my story, and special thanks to Vine Sliver for sticking with my story from the beginning!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Soul swimmer woke in a dank, dark cell, her arms tied behind her back through the slits in the chair she was sitting in, she tried to move her legs, but found that they were tied together as well. For a moment, she panicked, but quickly regained her composure when she realized that her captors had not taken her equipment. "Okay, Soul-Swimmer, you can do this," she thought to herself, trying to reach Death's kiss, confident it was still in the scabbard on her belt. Sure enough, she felt its ornate hilt, but as she grasped the handle, it slipped out of its scabbard and clattered to the floor. "Sithis!" she cursed, spitting the word as though it had a vile taste to it. She gasped as she heard a malicious chuckle from the shadows. A tall, seemingly golden Argonian strode out from the shadows. As his long, forked tongue flicked out of his mouth, however, she realized that this was no Argonian, and her heart nearly stopped in terror: He was an Akavir of the snakelike breed that had nearly conquered Cyrodiil centuries ago, an extremely lithe and agile race that did not know of shields. He smiled, evil dripping from his sadistic grin.

"You know," he hissed as he walked behind Soul-Swimmer, his long tongue flicking past her face, "you should not use the name of the Dark Father Ssssithisss sso lightly." Soul-Swimmer's heart pounded in her chest as she felt his breath on her cheek, reeking with the scent of blood.

"Hist, the serpent Akaviri are vampiric!" she thought to herself, terrified. The Avavir laughed, his laugh a cold, harsh sound akin to rasping metal, an awful, hateful sound.

"Don't worry, I don't share the sentiments your friend Rhiihaaj does!" he chided. Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened as she felt his clawed fingers tapping across the back of her neck, releasing a small cry of pain as they punctured her soft, blue skin. "You fear me, don't you?" he asked, his words more of a statement than a question. "Good, you should fear me. You're bait for our friend Amori!" At this, the cruel Akavir plunged his claws into her back, the two inch natural blades easily piercing her armor, and raked them down across her back, forming long gashes in her flesh. She screamed in agony, tears of pain welling in her eyes as she felt her blood trickling down her back, and worse, felt the Akavir's tongue slither in and out of the wounds, lapping her warm blood into the hungry mouth of its owner.

"Your plan won't work," she said through clenched teeth. "Amori left; he's probably long gone by now!" The Akavir smiled.

"Au contraire, mon frued!" he said, his voice dripping with cruelty. "You ssee, I know our dear Delchkahn well, and I know that he regards your ssafety as his own responsibility. You ssee, I am Kazaka, and I trained under Amori for the passt few monthss. I know him well, and he will come, as soon as he gets our message." After saying this, Kazaka sank his teeth into Soul-Swimmer's exposed neck, drinking deeply of her blood. She gasped, and her world went black. The last thing she heard were the words "Make ssure she doesn't die. We need her."

* * *

Kazaka wiped the blood from his serpentine lips, allowing it to drip down his hands and off of his long, sinister claws. He scowled at the Murderer standing guard at the cell door. The guard was an Orc, big and stupid. "Make ssure she doesn't die," he hissed in contempt. "We will need her." He strode down the halls of the dark, underground Cheydinhall Sanctuary. The complex had greatly expanded since Amori had left the guild, and it was now an immense maze of tunnels and catacombs, mostly patrolled by Orcish and Nordic guards, mostly Brothers and Sisters too clumsy or stupid to perform actual assassinations. He scowled in disgust as he passed the guards. How he longed to sink his teeth into the necks of the depressingly high number of stupid or clumsy guild members. "It'sss sso hard to find decent help these days," he whispered under his breath, cursing at the Brotherhood's misfortune in finding decent assassins these days. He skulked through the cavernous tunnels, a grim expression spread across his serpentine face. "I hope that sscum Rhiihaaj has returned. I'll need the wench he's traveling with to further my plans."

* * *

Sehiiri was excited, standing next to Rhiihaaj. Just a few hours ago, they had killed the rest of the mercenaries Rhiihaaj had hired, and he had told her that she was to become a Sister in the Dark Brotherhood. She knew that the Brotherhood would restrict the freedom she had as a bandit; she didn't care. Although her relationship with Rhiihaaj had started driven by animalistic desires, over the past few days she had become quite smitten with the romantic cat, and he felt likewise towards her. She clung to his arm giddily, feeling almost like she had when she had received her first mace for her birthday. Rhiihaaj smiled and rolled his eyes, tilting them down to gaze at the beautiful, golden-furred Khajiit clinging to his arm. They stood and waited in front of the Sanctuary door. Sehiiri began to grow impatient. "Rhiihaaj," she complained, "when are they going to open the door?" Rhiihaaj chuckled.

"Be patient, my love," he chided. "Be patient. We will hear the Doorman soon enough." Almost ironically, a low, raspy voice sounded from the other side of the ornate door as Rhiihaaj said this.

"_What is the color of night?_" it asked, it's voice ominous and filled with deathly intent. Sehiiri's heartbeat quickened in her chest as she heard the chilling voice. Rhiihaaj smiled calmly.

"Sanguine, my Brother," he answered, the scarred flesh beneath his eye twitching as he recited the phrase he had learned four months ago for what must have been the thousandth time. Those four months seemed so long ago to him now. He had changed a great deal. His mind snapped back into the present as he heard a deep sigh, and the door slid open.

"Rhiihaaj," Sehiiri said, struggling to retain her composure, "I'm… nervous." Rhiihaaj chuckled softly as they walked through the door.

"What's wrong, my little Savanna Rose?" he taunted, using his cute name for Sehiiri. "Can't admit to being a little scared?" Sehiiri frowned, and Rhiihaaj winced as her claws dug into his arm.

"I'm not scared!" she hissed. "Just… just a little… nervous, that's all." Rhiihaaj laughed again.

"Then don't show it!" he hissed into her ear, his light tone changing to a worried one. "These aren't exactly the nicest people! You show even a single sign of weakness, and they will use it to your detriment!" Sehiiri nodded, releasing her tight grip on her lover's arm and holding herself tall as they strode into the Sanctuary. The black walls loomed ominously about them, and torches hung from the ceiling, suspended in steel lanterns that looked more than a little sharp. A lone figure awaited them in the center of the large room, clad in black, with its face seeming to glow. Rhiihaaj straightened his back even more, and tried to look as presentable as possible.

"Who's he?" asked Sehiiri. "Should I know?"

"He is the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Kazaka, our leader. He is an Akavir, a golden-scaled serpent." Sehiiri gasped in shock. She had heard the stories of the Akaviri invasions, but she had never thought she would actually meet an Akavir!

"Rhiihaaj," the figure hissed, a small grin twitching on his lips. "Who's this that you have brought into our Ssanctuary?"

"This is Sehiiri, my lord Listener," Rhihaaj replied calmly. "She was a member of the band of mercenaries I hired, and she helped me to execute the others as well as to capture the target."

"Very good, very good," Kazaka replied, his smile barely hiding his extremely sadistic nature. "Rhiihaaj; you have been a very good sservent to me, but you have broken one of the Tenetss." Rhiihaaj frowned; he couldn't remember breaking a Tenet.

"Forgive me, my lord, but you must be mistaken," Rhiihaaj replied, concerned. "I have done nothing to anger our Lord and Father Sithis."

"Oh, but you have!" Kazaka said gleefully, enjoying the worry he was bringing to Rhiihaaj. "Jusst two months ago, you attacked a family member; Ssoul-Sswimmer!"

Rhiihaaj's face paled beneath his fur. "B-but she is a traitor!" he stammered, realizing that he had indeed broken a Tenet. "I have served Sithis loyally and faithfully!" Kazaka smiled.

"True, true," he said, his voice dripping with sadistic glee, "but when you attacked her, Ssoul-Sswimmer was a family member, and the five Tenetss demand your death!" Rhihaaj's eyes widened as he saw the other Brothers and Sisters come out of hiding. He turned to Sehiiri.

"Go, RUN!" he shouted before he was struck to the back of the head and fell to the floor unconscious. Sehiiri screamed and ran, ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Just as the Sanctuary Door was closing, she slipped underneath it and was free.

"I have to find Amori!" she thought, panicking. "He's the only one who could possibly defeat the Brotherhood!"

* * *

Delchkahn Amori stood in front of a gravestone, a glass of wine in one hand, a polished, black dagger in the other. He gazed down at the grave, ready for what he was about to do. "To us, my love," he said calmly. He raised the glass, and drank the contents in a swift, long drink. He savored the taste of the expensive wine on his tongue, letting it linger in his mouth before swallowing it. It wasn't the worst taste to have in your mouth before you died. He lifted the dagger up to his face, holding it at a couple feet away from him, staring at its gleaming, black blade. The weapon's name was Mehrunes Razor, the legendary dagger that could kill with a single prick. Amori had only used it three times before, and each time, he had felt as though a little bit of himself had been consumed by the weapon's evil. "Ocheeva," he said, ready for what he was about to do, "tonight, I join you, my love." He raised the Razor to his chest, and was about to plunge it into his heart when he heard the sound of someone running behind him. He stopped, and turned to see a young Khajiit woman running towards him. Her fur was a light gold, and she wore a revealing, tight-fitting leather cuirass, a pair of leather greaves, and a mace and short-sword on a black belt. Delchkahn lowered the blade, staring at the distressed girl, her fur matted down by the rain. "Can I help you?" he asked bluntly and uncaringly. The woman came to a stop as she reached him, bent over, panting.

"It's… it's the Brotherhood!" she gasped between deep breaths. "They… they have Rhiihaaj!" Delchkahn Amori's eyes widened in rage as he heard the name. The woman looked up at him. "I am Sehiiri, and—Sir? Are you alright?" Delchkahn responded by grabbing her by the throat and lifting her off the ground. She kicked and grabbed at his hand, but had no success in loosening his grip as he crushed her windpipe between his fingers.

"You expect me to help HIM?" he asked incredulously. "You expect me to help that womanizing murderer!?" Sehiiri gasped as he slammed her against the wall, trying to force words through her crushed throat.

"Brotherhood… has Soul-Swimmer… know where she… is!" she gasped, putting precious air into those words as her windpipe began to bleed, blood trickling onto her lips. Amori stepped back, dropping Sehiiri to the ground. She gasped for air, coughing up the blood that had begun to collect in her windpipe. "We caught Soul-Swimmer and turned her in to the Brotherhood as we were ordered, and killed the rest of our band as we were instructed. I know where she's being held, please, please help Rhiihaaj! He's all I have left!" she pleaded at Amori's feet. For a moment, Amori looked shocked, but then he turned away to face the gravestone, looking at the rose he had planted there what seemed like an eternity ago.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," he said coldly. "I'm busy."

"With what!?" Sehiiri cried, tears streaming down her face. "What could you be too busy with to save a life!?"

"The answer's simple: I'm busy dying." Sehiiri stared at Amori in shock, staring into his eyes, for the first time seeing just how broken the poor man was.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, frightened by the sorrow she saw in his soul.

"Four months ago, I was given a contract by Lucien Lachance: Kill all of the Family Members in the Cheydinhall sanctuary. At the time, I was in love with Ocheeva. I am still in love with her. She was a member of the Sanctuary. I killed all the other members while she slept, hoping to take her and hide her in the forest until the Brotherhood's inner turmoil had blown over. I didn't know she woke up. I sensed someone behind me, and turned around, sword leading. It was Ocheeva." Sehiiri gasped. "I killed he one I loved, and now, I am finally going to be with her again." Amori sadly turned his head toward the ground, drawing Mehrunes Razor from his belt. Sehiiri stood, and slapped him across the face.

"You coward!" she screamed, enraged at Amori's hopelessness. "You're so caught up in your own tragedy to see that there are people who need you! Fine, don't go for Rhiihaaj! Go for Soul-Swimmer! She _needs_ you!" Delchkahn winced, and tears began to spill from his eyes.

"I… I can't. She reminds me too much of Ocheeva. I can never forgive myself for her death. She can never forgive me." Sehiiri's hard expression softened.

"I can't begin to understand what it's like to kill a loved one, but I have lost them before, and I know this: if they were ever truly worthy of your love, they wouldn't want you to throw away your life after they're gone." Sehiiri placed a hand on the side of Delchkahn's face. "You've mourned enough for Ocheeva; you even commissioned a lovely gravesite for her," she said, glancing at the ornate gravestone, "and planted a rose at the site of her grave. You've grieved for four long months; it's time to let go. Ocheeva is dead, there's nothing more you can do for her. But Soul-Swimmer is still alive, and if you don't act now, she will be tortured, and then killed in a terrible fashion." Sehiiri took a deep breath, remembering all the people she herself had lost: her parents, her brother, her mentor, and her best friend. "The dead are gone; all we can do for them is make sure that they are never forgotten. You've done that for Ocheeva, now it's time to focus on those who still draw breath." Amori looked up, tears in his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Thank you Sehiiri," he said, smiling as though a great burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. He had finally come to terms with Ocheeva's death; what was done was done, and all he could do now was learn from the past. His expression changed to one of adventure, and Sehiiri knew that Delchkahn Amori, Hero of Kvatch, Deadra-Slayer, and former Listener of the Dark Brotherhood was back. "Now let's give the 'Brotherhood' hell!"

* * *

Ooh! It looks like Amori's going to kick some serious behind! After four months of grieving, he has finally come to terms with Ocheeva's death, and now it's time for some payback that set up the circumstances leading to her death!

What will happen next? Only time can tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	5. Realization

Hello! Sorry for the delay in updates, the site wouldn't let me upload my documents. So, to make up for the delay, expect 2-3 updates TODAY! I hope you're all enjoying how everything's going so far, and thanks for reading! Also, please review whether you like the story or not; positive feedback makes me feel good, and negative feedback (as long as it's constructive criticism) helps me to make my writing better. Thank you!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Soul-Swimmer came to, her head throbbing. She tried to turn to examine her surroundings, but she winced in pain as she felt her motions pulling on the long scabs that stretched across her back. Careful not to exert her back, she craned her neck around, searching for a means of escape. She had nearly given up hope when she saw Death's Kiss lying on the ground, just a few feet away. If she could reach it, she might be able to cut herself free. She hopped the chair she was tied to over to the blade, and knocked the chair over, hitting the ground with a soft grunt. She wobbled the chair back and forth, slowly drawing closer to the dagger until she felt its cold blade brush against her arm. Sweating profusely, she began to shimmy back and forth, letting the dagger slowly cut the ropes: one slip and the enchanted dagger would cut her, drawing her soul out of her body and ending her life. Suddenly, she heard a noise from outside the cell door. She lifted her head off of the ground, and saw a big, ugly Orc walk into the room.

"Well then, looks like someone's been busy," he chuckled churlishly. He slowly walked across the room, and kicked Soul-Swimmer in the gut. She grunted in pain, and the Orc bent over, putting his face next to her ear-hole. "Your friend Amori killed my brother, you know," he said, grinning. "It'll be fun to watch him squirm while you die!" The brutish Orc laughed, and began brutally beating Soul-Swimmer, repeatedly kicking her in the gut. She cried out in pain as the Orc's steel-toe boot slammed into her stomach. She felt her ribs snap, and coughed up blood. Just as she was sure the next blow would kill her, the beating stopped. She heard the Orc's boots clomp out of the door, and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Delchkahn Amori crept down the ladder in the well entrance to the Sanctuary, Sehiiri following behind him. He dropped to the ground noiselessly, perfectly balanced. After surveying the room, he saw that there was only one guard: a tall, bulky Nord. Amori smirked into disgust; it seemed the Brotherhood would take _anybody_ these days. He crept up behind the Nord, reached up, and slit the man's throat. The guard gurgled in his own blood as the life drained from him, and the last thing he ever saw was Amori standing above him, searching through his pockets. After he finished searching the guard, Ammori found what he was looking for: an extra Brotherhood uniform. He nodded; the suits of Shrouded Armor were enchanted to always fit the wearer. He took the armor as well as three healing potions, a bottle of poison, a crude dagger, and an astonishing 600 Septims. Amori grinned as he looked over the loot; it had been a long time since he had last gone adventuring; far too long. He pocketed all the items other than the shrouded armor, which he took back to the well entrance. He motioned for Sehiiri to drop down, and gave her the armor. "Here, put this on," he whispered, handing her the uniform. "The Brotherhood members will think you're one of them." Sehiiri glanced at the armor, then looked at Amori skeptically.

"Great, a new suit of armor," she said sarcastically. "One problem, lizard-boy: where do I change? Or do you expect me to let you watch?" Amori's face grew grim and he rolled his eyes, obviously thinking that now wasn't the time for sarcasm

"Why didn't I marry Dar-Ma when I had the chance?" he thought to himself, remembering how the young Argonian girl had been completely entranced by him when he had rescued her from Hackdirt two years ago. He had been 19 at the time, she had been 18. He remembered their brief relationship, and how it had come to an end when he had had to leave and resume his travels. The last time he had seen her, she was married and was expecting a child. That was about a month ago. He had gone to talk with her about Ocheeva, but when he saw how happy she was, he decided to leave; she had found a family, and didn't need the leader of the Dark Brotherhood messing things up for her. Smiling at the bittersweet memory, he returned to the present. "Here, you can use… you can use Ocheeva's old room; it should still be vacant." As he said the name Ocheeva, he winced, realizing that even though he had accepted the fact that she was dead, he could never stop grieving. He led Sehiiri to Ocheeva's room, and as he pushed the door open, he was shocked, not at how different it was, but at how much it was exactly the same. He saw the old portraits of him and Ocheeva together, portraits that had been instantly painted using magical brushes and paints. He saw the picture of he, Ocheeva, and Teinaava standing in a dungeon they had just cleared of its monsters: he was holding Ocheeva in his arms and they were locked in a kiss, and Teinaava stood off to the side, arms crossed, smiling, and rolling his eyes. He was snapped out of his memories as he felt Sehiiri's hand alight on his shoulder.

"Delchkahn, I understand what you must be going through right now," she said, struggling to find the right words. "If you want some time alone…" Delchkahn smiled, shaking his head.

"No, it's alright. I was just thinking about how even though Ocheeva and I had ended too early, we had a great run while it lasted." Delchkahn walked out of the room, still smiling, remembering all the good times he and Ocheeva had shared. After a few minutes, Sehiiri walked out of the room, and Amori's jaw nearly dropped. She was absolutely stunning. The dark armor fitted tightly around her form, clinging to her curvaceous body almost like a second skin. "For some reason, _everything_ seems to look good on her," he thought, chuckling under his breath. Sehiiri smiled deviously.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked mischeivously. Delchkahn laughed quietly.

"To be honest, you might be in more trouble now than before!" he joked. "The male gaurds are going to have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves!"

"Well," Sehiiri said thoughtfully, "that all depends on whether or not they HAVE hands!" Adventure spread itself across Delchkahn's face.

"Sehiiri," he said, "I like the way you think!"

* * *

Rhiihaaj grunted, reaching up to rub his throbbing forehead. His eyes snapped open in shock when he realized he couldn't move his arms. He glanced around frantically, panic overriding his rational mind. He was strapped to a stone slab, his arms spread above his head and his legs slightly spread so that his body formed a steep X. He strained, trying to escape, but the steel bands held his limbs fast to the slab. He heard the door open, and saw a female Argonian enter the room, and noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. The young Argonian smiled seductively, sauntering over to his side, pulling a steel rod out from her cloak. "Well, what do we have here?" she said, jabbing the steel rod into his side. Rhiihaaj cried out in pain as electricity lanced through his body, his back arching off of the slab. The Argonian pulled the rod away, and leaned down, her head next to his face. To his surprise she didn't taunt him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, pained, "I really don't enjoy doing this. My name is Ka-Mala, and I have a strange ability. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that ability, in fact." She pulled back in order to maintain her disguise. She smiled falsely as she stabbed the rod into Rhiihaaj's stomach, almost wincing as she saw the pain he was in. She leaned back to his face. "I have to keep up this ruse until I can make my escape, try to play along." Rhiihaaj nodded, wincing as he felt the last few sparks leave his body. "When I was young," Ka-Mala continued, "my parents were commanded by our King to give me to the brotherhood. I was just 13, and I had just developed the ability to sense others around me, and was beginning to develop the ability to read the minds of others to a limited extent." She pulled back again, and jabbed the rod into Rhihaaj's side. He howled in pain as the electricity lanced through his body. "Yes, that's it, scream scum!" Ka-Mala snickered. As Rhiihaaj looked into her eyes, he saw that she truly didn't enjoy what she was doing.

"You can read minds?" he grunted through clenched teeth. "Tell me what am I thinking about now." Ka-Mala looked ponderous for a moment, and replied.

"Well you're thinking about me. I'm wearing… oh my. And you're there, and… oh my." Ka-Mala looked shocked, and Rhiihaaj laughed.

"Yup, you can read minds for sure!" Rhiihaaj laughed painfully. Ka-Mala stabbed the rod into Rhiihaaj's gut, knocking the breath of him and shocking him for a good 20 seconds straight. She leaned in close to him, her eyes narrowed angrily.

"I meant that one!" she whispered.

"I probably deserved that," Rhihaaj panted, smoke rising from his body. Ka-Mala backed up, and frowned, mouthing 'I'm sorry' almost unnoticeably.

"Goodnight, Rhiihaaj," she said coldly, and plunged the rod into his stomach. Rhiihaaj screamed as he felt the electricity coursing through his body. Ka-Mala held the rod in place for a full minute. As he felt the rod leave his body, Rhiihaaj felt all the strength drain from his body. His eyelids grew heavy, and his vision went black.

* * *

Sehiiri walked down the corridor. She glanced up, and saw Delchkahn, his arms and legs spread to touch the walls on both sides, facing down, shimmying down the corridor above her. He looked down, and gave Sehiiri a thumbs up sign. Sehiiri walked on, and came to the bend. She could smell an Orc and a Nord, both males around the bend, and unfortunately, very easy to smell. She unbuttoned her armor, exposing the top of her bosom, and rounded the corner. She sauntered over to the two obviously drunk gaurds, her hips rocking side to side seductively. She smiled, and cleared her throat, getting the two guards' attention. Once she got it, the two guards' collective jaws dropped, and their eyes grew to the size of saucers. She put on an innocent expression, and walked up to the Orc.

"Uhm, can I help you Sister?" he asked nervously. She smiled seductively, leaning over slightly. The Orc's eyes widened even more, and his gaze shifted to a level just a little below her face.

"Hmm, now that you mention it, yes" she said cutely to the gawking Orc. "I'm new here, could you show me to the living quarters?" The Orc began to reach for her.

"Of course I can!" he replied lustily. "And maybe you can help me out afterwards?" He grinned, a driblet of drool dripping down his chin.

"Oh, like this?" Sehiiri grabbed the Orc's arm, and threw the man over her head, snapping the limb in two places in the process. The Orc cried out in pain and rage, and as he hit the ground, he reached for her ankle with his good arm. Before he could even touch her, Sehiiri bashed his skull in with her obsidian mace. She heard a roar behind her, and turned to see the Nord standing behind her, his hammer raised over his head. Just as he was about to bring the weapon down on Sehiiri's head, however, Delchkahn Amori leapt off of the ceiling, crashing into the man's chest, bringing him down and stabbing him through the heart in one swift motion. Sehiiri buttoned her armor back up, and stared at Amori, her eyes wide. The Argonian wasn't even panting as he wiped the blood off of his blade. "How did you do that?" she asked, amazed.

"Lots of practice," he replied, and began to lick the last of the blood from his sword. Sehiiri stared at him as though he were crazy.

"What are you doing?" she asked, both disgusted and fascinated. Amori looked up, his long tongue still wrapped around the tip of his sword. Sehiiri laughed; he looked absolutely ridiculous! Amori glanced down, realized what he was doing, and retracted his tongue into his mouth.

"Ah, I'm a former vampire," he said, explaining his odd habit. "Every once in a while, I get a craving for blood, and if any is present, I start to absentmindedly consume it." He glanced down the long corridor, gazing all the way to the wall where it turned and he could see no further. "Seylia's cell is at the end of this tunnel?" Sehiiri nodded. "Let's get a move on, then." They dragged the bodies of the guards into the shadows, and made their way forward, slowly, cautiously. As they rounded the turn, they came across a large door. Delchkahn put his ear-hole up against the door, and he listened intently. He heard about ten voices from the other side of the door; one female, and nine male. The female voice was an Argonian, but not Soul-Swimmer. The nine males were assorted Nords, Orcs, and Imperials. He slowly backed away from the door, and turned to face Sehiiri. "Alright, there are about ten people on the other side; nine males, and a female. I'll knock the door down, and fire three arrows into the battle before going in. Don't move until I do! You ready?" he whispered, and Sehiiri nodded. Delchkahn braced himself, calling on the remnants of his vampire strength, and with a single punch, smashed the heavy wooden door to smithereens.

* * *

"C'mon, Ka-Mala!" said a brutish Nord who had the Argonian woman pinned up against a wall. "Why won't you spend time with a real man?" Just as he was getting too close to Ka-Mala for her comfort, the door exploded inwards. "What the—" was all the Nord could get out before an arrow drilled into his skull. His body jerked with electric discharge, and two more arrows launched out from the doorway, streaming into two of the guards' chests. Ka-Mala screamed in terror as Delchkahn Amori and Sehiiri rushed into the room. The six remaining guards charged them, and each of them took on three. Sehiiri drew her mace and short-sword, parrying the attacks of two at once. Amori drew his sword, and ducked all three blades at once, and impaled one of his assailants before ripping his blade out through the man's side. Blood spattered on Ka-Mala's face, and in the confusion, a thrown dagger from one of the guards flew into her leg. She screamed, and tried to crawl away. She watched in horror as Amori leapt into the air and kicked both of the guards in the face as they raised their blades to strike. As they stumbled backwards, he spun around, decapitating both of them in a swift, clean strike. One of the heads rolled next to Ka-Mala, and she froze in terror. "Hist's roots," she thought, panicking. "Please, I don't want to die!" Sehiiri had more trouble than Amori, seeing as how one of the guards had managed to force her arms behind her back. Just as the other was about to run her through with his sword, however, she caught the blade between her feet and flipped it of his hands. While the guard was dazed, she gripped his head between her legs and snapped his neck. The other guard loosened his grip in shock, and that was all the opening Sehiiri needed. She swept her legs in a low roundhouse kick, knocking the man over, and stabbing him through the face with her sword. Amori walked over to Sehiiri, and helped her up. Then he noticed Ka-Mala crawling towards the opening he had creating when he broke the door down. He walked over to her, and lifted her off of the ground by the neck, slamming her against the stone wall. She cried out in pain, and tears streamed down her face. "Please don't kill me," she whimpered. Amori's expression was cold.

"Where is Seylia?" he asked, and pressed his hand into Ka-Mala's throat. She gasped for air, kicking and grabbing at his hand meekly. Her face grew pale.

"… Don't know… Seylia…" Amori slammed his hand down, completely crushing her windpipe. She struggled, kicking and tearing at his hands, tearing at his gauntlets until her fingers bled. She managed to pry his grip loose enough for her to talk for just long enough to squeeze out a few words. Those words saved her life.

"Soul-Swimmer… Know…" Amori's eyes widened, and he dropped Ka-Mala to the ground. She gasped for air, coughing up blood, tears running down her face. Delchkahn kicked her over, and placed the tip of FrostFire up against her neck. As the blade pierced her soft skin, Amori could feel her rapid pulse through the handle of his blade.

"Tell me: Where is she?" he asked, staring coldly into Ka-Mala's tear-filled eyes.

"Please…" she cried, terrified, " I don't want to be here… I can help you… Soul-Swimmer's through that door… please… please don't kill me!" Amori thought for a moment, and pulled the Mehrunes Razor from his belt. He helped Ka-Mala to her feet.

"Hands up," he commanded, holding the Razor to Ka-Mala's back, it's blade brushing against her thin shirt. "Lead me to her, and I'll let you live." The terrified young woman nodded, and Amori felt terrible about what he was doing until he reminded himself that she was a member of the Dark Brotherhood. She led him to a door, and unlatched the lock on it. The heavy steel doors slid open, and Amori saw Soul-Swimmer lying on the ground on her side, tied to a chair, her abdomen and neck covered in blood. He ran to her side. "Seylia!" cried, "Seylia, are you okay?" Soul-Swimmer's eyes fluttered as she heard her old name being called, and she looked up, clearly in pain.

"Delchkahn?" she said, a tired smile spreading across her face. "You came back for me?" Delchkahn nodded and he cut her loose, small tears budding in his eyes.

"Yes, Seylia, yes!" he said, frantic. "Not again, not again!" he thought. Soul-Swimmer looked up at him, her tired eyes dim.

"Delchkahn… Seylia died long ago… please, the person who I am now is Soul-Swimmer." Amori nodded, cradling her head in his hands. He saw that her wounds were too extensive for a regular healing potion to work; what Soul-Swimmer needed was advanced restoration. Delchkahn knew that this may be the only opportunity to tell Soul-Swimmer what had happened, and how he truly felt.

"Soul-Swimmer, I'm sorry I left. I was too caught up in the past to move on. I hadn't been able to forgive myself for Ocheeva's death, and I still haven't, but I have come to terms with what I did. I can't change the past, but I can look to the future." He paused, thinking. "Should I really say this?" he thought, "Do I really mean it?" It was then he realized that over the course of the few days he had known her, he had found everything he could want in her. She was kind, understanding, and humorous. She didn't fear adventure, and had a fiery spirit to rival an Atronach. "Soul-Swimmer, I think… I think I love you," he said, tears running down his face. Soul-Swimmer smiled weakly.

"Amori… very similar to the ancient word for love," she mused. "You're the first person to see anything in me for so long…" she coughed, the beating she had taken earlier was taking its toll; she was dying. "Funny that I should have to die now after finally finding what I was looking for…" She coughed violently, blood flying out of her mouth. To his great surprise, Ka-Mala pushed her way past Amori, and crouched next to Soul-Swimmer.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, grabbing Ka-Mala's hand. She pulled it out of his grip, and began to conjure a glowing blue ball over Soul-Swimmer's body.

"Look," Ka-Mala said seriously, concentrating on her spell, "she needs advanced restoration, so if you want her to live, I suggest you pipe down!" Amori was taken aback at the formerly timid young woman's manner, but he nodded. Ka-Mala began to chant, and she released the blue ball of energy into Soul-Swimmer's body. Her flesh began to glow, and she actually floated a few centimeters off of the ground. Delchkahn saw the long scabs on her back , and watched in amazement as the dried blood crumbled and fell off, leaving only slight scars behind them. The scabs on her neck did the same, leaving small pinprick shaped scars, and the blood covering her abdomen welled back into her body. Her wounds healed over, and she breathed deeply. "There we go," said Ka-Mala soothingly, helping Soul-Swimmer to her feet. She turned to face Delchkahn. "Don't worry, Amori, she'll be fine." Ka-Mala turned to face Sehiiri. "And as for you, Sehiiri, your friend Rhiihaaj is waiting for you." Sehiiri gasped.

"How… how did you—" Ka-Mala cut her off.

"Know your name?" she said, finishing Sehiiri's sentence. "I'm a telepath of sorts, I have the limited ability to read minds. When I read Rhiihaaj's, well, let's just say some things are better left unmentioned." Sehiiri smiled.

"He was thinking about me, wasn't he?" she asked, grinning.

"No, worse. About me," Ka-Mala replied, her eye twitching slightly as she remembered Rhiihaaj's less than proper thoughts. To everyone's great surprise, Soul-Swimmer began to speak.

"Delchkahn… Sehiiri… you have to leave! It's a trap, Kazaka set a trap!" she said urgently. Just then, they heard the door creak, and saw the golden-scaled Akavir stride into the room, grinning evilly.

"Good to see you again, master," he said, and pulled a small dart from his pocket. He flung it at Amori, and Delchkahn gasped as it hit him. He could feel its dark magic coursing through his body, and struggle as he might, he couldn't resist the pull of unconsciousness. Amori gave in to the dark spell, and slipped into the void.

* * *

Uh oh... Kazaka's plan to capture Amori worked! Now Amori and his friends are all captives of the Brotherhood, and Kazaka has everything he needs to fulfill his dark plans for Cyrodiil, Tamriel, and eventually, all of Nirn. What will happen next? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	6. Legends and Nightmares

As promised, here is the 6th chapter. Amori and his friends have been captured by Kazaka, and now the evil Akavir has everything he needs to initiate his master plans. What will happen now? Read on, read on, and discover.

PS: About the portraits in Ocheeva's room: does anyone have a better idea on how to do "photos"?

And now, we return to our feature presentation.

* * *

Amori woke in a dark cell. The first thing he did was pat himself down, checking to see what equipment he had left. As expected, Kazaka had left his armor, but had confiscated his weapons. "Figures," he thought, irritated at the loss of his equipment. At least his hands weren't tied. Amori heard a faint whimpering, and he turned to examine his surroundings. Soul-Swimmer was huddled up in a corner, and Sehiiri was comforting Ka-Mala. Delchkahn walked over to Soul-Swimmer and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said, "you alright?" Soul-Swimmer looked up into his eyes, and leapt into his arms, smiling.

"Am now," she said happily. Suddenly, they were interrupted by a slow, steady clap. Kazaka stood in the doorway, grinning.

"Awww, how cute," he said mockingly. He took a small, white ball from his pocket, and tossed it into the center of the room. There was a bright flash, and by the time they could see again, Amori and Soul-Swimmer were tied together back-to-back, and Sehiiri and Ka-Mala had their hands bound behind their backs. Twelve Dark Gaurdians stood in a circle around the prisoners, their claymores raised menacingly. Kazaka chuckled maliciously, punching Amori in the gut. Delchkahn grunted with the impact, and Kazaka grabbed his arm and dragged him and Soul-Swimmer down the dark corridor, with the Dark Guardians and the other prisoners following them. They walked until they reached a thin, stone door. Kazaka signaled through a small hole in the top of the door, and the door slid slowly open. Two Dark Guardians strode out of the room, each one holding one of Rhiihaaj's arms. Sehiiri gasped as she saw him; his fur was singed, missing in places, and he had large, black burns all over his body.

"Rhiihaaj," she whispered as he was led to her side. "What happened to you?" Rhiihaaj chuckled under his breath, maintaining his humorous composure despite the grim situation they were in.

"Ka-Mala happened, that's what." Sehiiri glared at the young Argonian. "Don't worry, it's not her fault," Rhiihaaj said quickly, realizing his mistake. "She had orders to torture me, and in the process, told me you were coming." He laughed softly, the odd cross between a purr and a chuckle slipping between closed lips. "Didn't think it would be like this though…" Rhiihaaj was silenced as one of the Gaurdians kneed him in the gut. To everyone's surprise, it began to talk.

"Quiieet, priisssooneer," it whispered darkly, it's voice like a breeze rustling between dry branches or old bones. "The Niighht Mootheer will deeaall with youuu soon enoughhhh…" The undead creature cackled horribly, it's dry jawbones clacking together in a loud, dry, percussive sound. Ka-Mala began to pray quietly, her words coming in short bursts, interspersed with terrified gasps. Amori began to get angry.

"What's going on , Kazaka?" he asked, irritated by the Akavir's silence. "What did that skeletal freak mean by 'the night mother will deal with you soon enough'?" The golden-scaled snake man laughed—a hoarse, raspy, hissing sound—and turned to face his old master, three years his junior, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"You'll ssee," he said. "You'll ssee." The group halted; they had come to a heavy, ancient door. It was made of stone, and had images carved into its surface. A robed, female figure spread her arms over a mountain, her fingers extending and merging to become the night. On the landscape below, five cloaked figures could be seen, each holding a bloodied dagger; the sons of the Night Mother and Sithis, and the original Black Hand. A voice issued from the door, dark and foreboding.

"_What pounds harder than a blacksmith's hammer, beats louder than a drum, and is silenced with the a single prick?" _Kazaka smiled, and answered the ancient riddle.

"The heart of a sacrifice," was his reply. The door slid open, revealing a black void: a gateway. The dark Kazaka strode into the inky blackness, and the Dark Gaurdians pushed the prisoners in behind him.

* * *

Garushag gro-Bolmog grew impatient; where was Kazaka? He had been promised the right to kill his brother's killer on the Black Altar! The brutish Orc scowled; maybe he shouldn't have beaten that Argonian so much. Maybe she'd died, and his "lord and master" Kazaka's ruse had failed. Just as he was about to begin breaking things, an inky black void opened before him, and Kazaka stepped out, grinning. Fourteen Dark Guardians followed behind him, with five prisoners in their midst. Only two caught Garushag's cold eyes; two Argonians tied back-to-back; Soul-Swimmer, and the object of Garushag's hatred: Delchkahn Amori. Garushag smiled wickedly; he was about to get his revenge.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer closed her eyes as she was pushed into the void. She could feel the cold of death around her; they were traversing the Void; the realm of Sithis himself. She could feel the souls of the dead slide across her body: cold, clammy, and unnatural. She shivered, wondering if this was what it was like to be dead, if this was what dying felt like. She didn't want to find out. She was startled out of her thoughts as she saw a small light on the other end of the tunnel she and the others were being led through; it was another gate, a gate back into the realm of Nirn. The light was a dim blue, unnatural and unholy in nature. Soul-Swimmer's heart pounded in fear as the drew closer to it, and she shut her eyes as they went through.

* * *

Amori blinked as he exited the gate; they were in a familiar underground chamber: the tomb of the Night Mother. Six caskets lined the walls, and dark murals stretched across the room. In the center of the room, however, was something that had not been there before: an immense altar, crafted of onyx and in the form of an immense, black, hand reaching up from the floor. Its fingertips were clawed, and its fingers were spread, curving upwards at the ends. The palm was easily large enough for two people to stand on, and there was a small drainage hole in the center. In horror, Delchkahn realized what was going to happen: he and Soul-Swimmer were going to be sacrificed to the Night Mother. Kazaka walked up to a large Orc standing next to the altar, and handed the brute an ivory sword. The blade's edge was wickedly sharp, and was lined with a cold, black metal that seemed to glow and hum with necrotic energy. The Orc stepped up to the altar as Amori and Soul-Swimmer were shoved onto it, smiling.

"Hello, Amori!" he said mockingly, grinning like a madman. "My name s Garushag gro-Bolmog, and it's time you paid for my brother's murder!" The Orc raised the blade above his head, and both Amori and Soul-Swimmer froze in fear. "Mother of the night!" cried Garushag. "Accept this offering, and return to our world, young and new, in a body crafted from the blood of the fallen!" Garushag grinned and began to bring the blade down. Amori closed his eyes tight, waiting for the blow, but it never came. He looked up, and saw an arrow protruding from Garushag's skull, with Kazaka standing behind him holding a golden bow.

"Blood of a Brother, unknowingly given," he said evilly. As Garushag fell, Amori pushed Soul-Swimmer as far away from him as he could while they were still bound together, and moved the space between them into the path of the sword. As the immense blade came down, it sliced through the ropes binding them together like butter, and Amori and Soul-Swimmer were freed. Before the ivory blade hit the ground, Delchkahn kicked its hilt, sending the blade flying towards one of the Dark Gaurdians. The blade rammed through its ribcage, shattering its spine and crumbling the skeleton into dust. Amori leaped off the altar and landed on all fours, with Soul-Swimmer landing beside him. He laughed, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt alilve! For the first time in months, he felt truly alive!

"Huh," he said, smiling, "no weapons, surrounded by enemies, and in the middle of the tomb of one of the most powerful entities ever to walk Tamriel." Soul-Swimmer glanced at him over her shoulder as if he was insane.

"And you're _excited_ about that?" she asked incredulously. Amori laughed.

"Well, being up against impossible odds is just a little reminiscent of how life used to be." His laughter ended, however, as he saw that the Dark Gaurdians holding the captives had their blades to his friends' necks. Kazaka laughed, watching Garushag's blood drain into the basin below the altar.

"You really thought it would be that easy, didn't you 'Masster'?" he said mockingly, putting emphasis on the word master. For months he had had to train under one three years his junior, and now, the tables were turned. "I already have the blood of a Brother; now I need the blood of a leader." Kazaka pointed at Amori with his katana, runes etched along the length of the golden blade. "I need your blood, Amori, and unlesss you give it to me, I will kill all of your friendss here and now!" Amori heard a scream, and turned to see a Dark Guardian dragging Soul-Swimmer away, a blade to her neck. Amori began to think back to his days when he trained the arrogant Akavir, and remembered Kazaka's weakness: his confidence. Amori stood, and faced Kazaka.

"We'll do it this way," he said. "I challenge you to single combat. If I kill you, your Dark Gaurdians crumble into dust and my friends go free. If you kill me, you get your 'leaders blood'." Kazaka grinned, and clicked his tongue.

"Now, that'ss not fair," he said, smiling. "If I lose, I lose my life and my goalss. If you lose, the only thing you lose is your own hide! How about this; if you lose, you have to watch me kill Ssoul-Sswimmer slowly and painfully before your very eyes before I end you!" Amori looked hesitant, but with a sigh, he realized that if he gave Kazaka his blood without a fight, he would murder all of his friends anyways. Amori looked up, his eyes filled with determination.

"Alright then, Kazaka." The Akavir smiled, and tossed Amori FrostFire. Amori caught the sword in midflight, and assumed a combat position, his sword raised above his head, pointing forward, his legs bent in a crouch. "Let's dance!" Kazaka lunged forwars incredibly quickly, and Delchkahn sidestepped, Kazaka's sword barely missing him. The two circled each other, their eyes never leaving the other's face, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Amori twitched his sword in a feint, and Kazaka lunged, thinking that Amori was going to strike. Amori stepped out of the way, and brought his sword down on Kazaka's neck, but the agile Akavir brought his blade up in a parry, and slit it along FrostFire's length, throwing Amori off balance. The two engaged in fierce combat, their two blades, FrostFire and DeathFang clashing in the dim light, each a near mirror of the other. The battle had a beautiful symmetry to it as master and apprentice fought, one representing light and the other darkness. Every time one gained the advantage, the other would steal it away from them. As the battle raged onwards, the Dark Guardians not acting as jailors pointed their weapons towards the center of the room: if either combatant was pushed too far, they would be skewered. Kazaka and Delchkahn were locked in a dance of death, each knowing that one slip would end their life, and shatter the reason they had to live. As the battle progressed, however, something strange happened. Kazaka's body was engulfed in a shroud of black mist, wreathed in the power of Sithis, and Amori's eyes caught fire and he began to glow a bright orange, the might of Akatosh irradiating from his body. All watching the battle were in awe of the two avatars of their chosen gods: this was no longer merely a battle between master and apprentice, but a battle between the gods themselves. The pace of combat increased, sparks flying from the two blades. DeathFang flew in towards Amori's head, and he barely dodged its terrible edge as it whistled past his skull, and he lunged with FrostFire at Kazaka, who barely dodged the tip of Amori's blade. The magical swords souls awakened, and the blades were now as much a part of the battle as their wielders. Their true power was unleashed: FrostFire was engulfed in blue flames, and DeathFang dripped glowing acid and steamed with green fumes. Each combatant knew what would happen if they were touched by the others blade: a single cut from DeathFang would drain Amori's body of its life energy, leaving him as close to death as Kazaka wanted, and a slice from FrostFire would unleash the elemental forces of fire and ice into Kazaka's veins, leading to an untimely demise. The blades clashed, their magic evident as the blades began to hum and glow. DeathFang whistled past Amori's face, the air current behind it leaving a small cut on his cheek, and FrostFire sliced through the air past Kazaka's abdomen, its flames leaving a long, burnt, and frozen cut in the Akavir's armor. The two fought, their power rivaling that of even the Deadra, their eyes locked into each other's. Amori tripped, and rolled out of the way as DeathFang pounded into the stone floor next to him, staining the stones an ugly green, and Amori swung his leg in a kick, knocking Kazaka to the ground. Each combatant backflipped back to their feet, and charged the other. Their blades met, locked together, and they jumped to the side, landing on the grim altar. Each had only a little room to maneuver as the Guardians drew closer so that if one fell, he would die. DeathFang and Frostfire clashed. Their edges slid across one another, sparks flying. At first, FrostFire began to dim, but it regained its strength, burning brighter than ever before. The immense power overwhelmed DeathFang, and the evil blade's power began to vanish, until finally, in a blinding flash of light, DeathFang exploded. Kazaka's eyes were wide in disbelief as Amori's blade continued in a downward arc, slicing through his chest. Kazaka screamed in agony as FrostFire sliced through his flesh. His skin ignited and his blood froze. His eyes caught fire, and Amori's blade continued through his body. FrostFire exited the wound, and with a single, downward slice, Amori cleaved Kazaka in two. Kazaka's burning body fell upon the surface of the altar, his black blood draining into the basin. Amori jumped off of the altar, and sank to the ground, body steaming from the exertion of hosting the spirit of Akatosh. FrostFire returned to its normal state, and the Dark Guardians howled as they crumbled into nothingness. It was over. Soul-Swimmer ran to his side as her captor disintegrated, helping him to his feet.

"Amori!" she cried, "Are you alright?" Amori leaned on her shoulder, too weak to even stand on his own, and slid FrostFire into its scabbard.

"I… I'm fine," he replied. With the death of Kazaka, the magic ropes that bound the other prisoners crumbled into dust. Sehiiri rushed to embrace Rhiihaaj, and he held her in his arms.

"I thought I would never see you again," she said, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. Rhiihaaj hugged her, smiling.

"Shhhh, shhhh," he whispered comfortingly. "What matters is that you did." Ka-Mala stood in a corner, alone. Suddenly, they heard a loud rumble coming from the center of the room. They turned, and saw the hand altar closing into a fist, glowing red. Amori's eyes widened as he realized what had happened.

"The blood of a leader...," he whispered, not wanting to believe what was happening. "Kazaka was the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, and I killed him on top of the altar! His blood completed the ritual!" The entire tomb began to rumble, and rocks rained down on their heads. Adrenaline flooded through Amori's veins, and he ran for the heavy stone door of the tomb. "Come on, let's GO!" he shouted over the rumbling. "The tomb's collapsing, and the Night Mother is coming back from the dead! Come on, help me get this door open!" Rhiihaaj ran to the door, and the two men pushed on it with all their strength. "I appreciate the help, Rhiihaaj, but I don't think anything different about you," Amori grunted. Rhiihaaj let out a strained laugh.

"Ha, well maybe if we live through this, we'll have some time to get to know each other on more friendly terms." Finally, the stone door buckled, and collapsed outside. The group ran out of the tomb and into the town square of Bravil. Citizens stared in shock as the five beastfolk who had just ran out from the base of the Lucky Old Lady statue. The silence was broken by a scream. The group turned around, and watched in horror as the statue crumbled in upon itself. A young Dunmer woman stood atop the wreckage, clad only in a thin, black, silk robe. The Night Mother

"Ahh," she said, stretching her new arms and legs out. "It's so good to be out of that old tomb. Now , let's have some fun, shall we?" She grinned, and a horde of skeletons poured out of the wreckage and overwhelmed the terrified citizenry of Bravil, led by five reincarnated Dunmer half gods: the original Black Hand.

* * *

Woah... Amori and Kazaka fought with the strength of gods and with awakened blades... when I wrote this, even I didn't expect that! And now, the NIght MOther and the original Black Hand have been unleashed on the city of Bravil! What will happen? Will Bravil become another K'vatch? Or will Amori and his friends find a way to stop the Night Mother's skeletal army before it's too late? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	7. Reunion

Hey everyone! Here's chapter 7! So, the Night Mother's been ressurected, and Amori is extremely weakened from his battle with Kazaka. What will happen now? All I can tell you is that Amori will meet up with an old friend...

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened as she saw the oncoming horde of undead. There was no way Amori could run from them; he was too weak to stand, and could only walk while leaning on her shoulder. The skeletons charged towards them, spears, swords, and axes gleaming in the sunlight. "Come on, Delchkahn," she said, frantic. "You have to run! You have to stand up!" She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a skeleton an inch from her face. It raised its claymore, and was about to strike, when a blast of lightning caught it in the face. The undead monstrosity crumbled into a pile of dust and bones, and Soul-Swimmer looked to see who the caster of the lightning bolt was. She saw Ka-Mala, standing with her legs braced, looking nervous, her hand smoking. Just then, Soul-Swimmer felt a yank on her arm, and she turned, to look into Delchkahn Amori's eyes. There were three skeletons grabbing onto him, pulling, trying to tear him out of her grasp.

"Run," he whispered, his voice weak. Then his grip on her hand broke, and the undead carried him off to their master.

"NO! AMORI!" screamed Soul-Swimmer, drawing her blade and rushing at the line of Skeletons before her, tears streaming from her eyes. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and another, and another, preventing her from running forward any more, holding her fast. She screamed, and heard Rhiihaaj's voice.

"Soul-Swimmer, you can't fight them!" he said sternly, his strong arms around her shoulders. She turned and saw that Sehiiri and Ka-Mala each had one of her arms, and that Rhiihaaj had his arms looped around her shoulders. "There's too many, we have to run!" Soul-Swimmer felt her friends dragging her backwards. She kicked backwards, and her boot connected with Rhiihaaj's groin. He gasped, but knowing that his Soul-Swimmer's life was literally in his hands, avoided the normal male reaction, and continued dragging her towards the town gate.

"No, NO! AMORII!" she screamed, crying, as her friends lifted her off of the ground and carried her to the gates, terrified citizens streaming past them as though they were a river. More and more were shot by the skeletal archers, and the streets ran red with innocent blood, the skies glowing with the many fires that burned in Bravil. She didn't care; they had Amori. Her love was gone.

* * *

Delchkahn let his head hang limp as the Dark Guardians bore him out of Bravil, their bony hands clamped tight around his arms and legs. He wasn't afraid of what was to come; he knew he was going to die, and he knew that with his last actions, he had saved Soul-Swimmer's life. He laughed. "For the first time, it looks like it's me who's going to pay for my actions rather than a friend or loved one," he said softly to himself. All the blood he had on his hands, all the friends he had lost to his own stupidity. He had killed Ocheeva, ha had killed Teinaava, and he blamed himself for Martin's death, even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done. He remembered all the blades who gave their lives so that he could close the gates of Oblivion, remembered Uriel Septim and how he had used his dying breath to warn him. He remembered how his parents had given their lives to save him from the Dunmer, and how his brother had died during their flight to Cyrodiil. He remembered the friends he had lost to the Countess of Leyawiin's torture chambers, and he remembered the frail, old wood elf he had shot in the head. For him, paying for his actions with his life was a relief: it was far better than others paying for his mistakes. Finally, they came to their destination: a lonely cliff above a rushing waterfall. The Dark Guardians set him down, proffering a crutch so that he could stand. He answered the Guardian by drawing FrostFire and stabbing it through the skeleton's skull. He stood on his own, his legs wavering, and slowly lifted his head to meet the gaze of the Night Mother and her five sons. He smiled, and laughed a little. The Night Mother smiled as well, a devious grin splaying itself across her young, beautiful face.

"You seem so calm in your moment of death, Delchkahn," she said playfully. Her sons looked up at her, and Amori noticed the differences between them beneath their hoods: one was tall and thin, his face slim and angular; another short and wiry; the third looked to be only about 15 years of age; the fourth was near skeletal, and the fifth had wide shoulders with muscles packed tightly onto his frame. One the skeletal one lifted his head to speak to his mother, and she scowled at him. She resumed her cheerful composure, and looked back at Amori. "Are you not afraid to die?" Delchkahn chuckled.

"No, actually, I have no fear of death," he said, shaking his head back and forth. "I'm just glad that finally, no one else is going to die because of me." The Night Mother smirked.

"Are you so sure of that?" she asked sweetly. Amori began to get nervous; what was she talking about? The Night Mother grinned, and snapped her fingers. The Dark Guardians brought forth a large sack, and dumped the contents out onto the ground. It was Seed-Neeus, Dar-Ma's mother. An enchanted necklace was around her neck, rendering her unconscious. Two of the Black Hand lifted the middle-aged Argonian woman off the ground by her wrists, holding her in a standing position, and a third, the skeletal looking one who Amori was beginning to believe was the Listener, drew a jeweled dagger and undid the necklace. Seed-Neeus' eyes flicked open, and she gasped as she saw the Dunmer around her. She kicked and struggled, but stopped as the Listener held his dagger up to her neck. She saw Amori, and frowned a bit.

"Amori!" she said sternly. "What's going on?!" She heard a laugh, and turned to see someone she had never expected to see; alive, at least. The Night mother stood on a boulder about a foot from her. "Y-you," she gasped, not believing her eyes. All Argonians knew of the Night Mother, for she was the bride of Sithis, who was the god of their gods, the Hist. The Night mother kicked dirt into Seed-Neeus' face contemptuously.

"Lizard scum," she said, smiling at Seed-Neeus' obvious discomfort. She turned to look at Amori, her long red hair flowing in the wind, her pure black eyes glinting in the moonlight. "You see, Amori," she said mockingly, "I could have your little friend Dar-Ma's mother killed right now!" She cackled insanely, almost doubling over with the force of her raucous laughter. "I could kill her now, or tomorrow, or the day after! I could have her starved to death, tortured, buried alive, even drowned in her daughter's blood if I wished for it! You see, Amori, your death won't save those you care about, it'll only stop you from saving them from me! You were a good servant, Amori! A fine listener! You were cold, emotionless, and you never hesitated for a contract! So answer me one question: why did you betray me and our Dark Lord Sithis?" Amori glared at her, his eyes grim. He knew that he was going to die, and he knew that Seed-Neeus was also probably dead. All he could do now was tell the truth.

"I betrayed you for a good reason. I betrayed you because after all it had given me, the gold, the magic equipment, the infamy, your damn guild stole the one thing I cared about most from me: Ocheeva. Your damn 'Brotherhood' cares nothing for the passions of life, and heartlessly exterminates even it's own family members!" Amori turned to face Seed-Neeus, looking sorrowfully into her terrified eyes. "Seed-Neeus, I'm sorry. This is all my fault; you didn't know that I was a member of the Dark Brotherhood, that I was an assassin, and now the Night Mother is probably going to kill you, and hunt down your family. I know one thing, however, and that's that I'm going to die. If you ever see Dar-Ma again, apologize to her for me." He turned back to face the Night Mother. "So, 'Mother', you and your damn guild can all meet Akatosh's rage like dogs like you deserve!" The Night Mother was enraged, and her hair began to float above her head. She snapped her fingers, and a group of Dark Guardians seized Amori and Seed-Neeus, and threw them off of the cliff.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer cried in her tent. She sat on a lumpy bedroll, tears streaming down her face. She had just found the man she wanted to spend her life with, and now he was gone. He had used what may have been his last breath to tell her to run, to save her life. Rhiihaaj poked his head through the tent door.

"Soul-Swimmer?" he asked. "Are you ok?" She nodded, her face stained with tears.

"I-I'll be fine," she sniffled. She noticed he was shirtless, and assumed, correctly, that he and Sehiiri were "together". "Go back to Sehiiri." Rhiihaaj blushed slightly, nodded, and left. She picked up Death's Kiss, the beautiful dagger Amori had given her, and gazed into its black blade, staring into its depths as though it were the void itself. It was the last thing she had to remember him by.

* * *

Seed-Neeus screamed as she fell, plummeting towards the pond below. At the height she was falling from, the impact from the water would break her neck if she hit it wrong. Calming herself, she tried to reposition herself into a diving posture. The water came closer, closer, and just as she was about to hit its surface, she aligned her body into a perfect line, and slipped through its surface, barely even making a splash. She righted herself underwater, and heard a loud crash. She saw Selchkahn Amori crash back-first into the water, sinking like a rock, his blood staining the water red. She swam over to him, and dragged his body out onto the shore. She put her ear next to his mouth, and to her relief, he was still breathing. She tore strips of cloth from her skirt and bandaged his wounds, and began to drag him towards Bravil. She had no idea what she was going to see when she got there.

Seed-Neeus gasped in horror as she came to the walls of what had once been Bravil: fires raged over every building, and corpses littered the streets. The burning city was silent, as if all life had gone from it. "Great Akatosh," she whispered, "it's just like K'Vatch…" Then she saw a trail leading off into the woods; someone had escaped. She followed the trail, struggling to hoist Amori over roots and logs, dragging him through the underbrush. His breathing became labored, and small rivulets of blood began to trickle down his chin. "Come on, Amori, don't die!" Finally, she felt warmth on her back, and turned. Just a few feet away was a campsite, a large fire burning in the middle. She smiled, and ran into the campground. She had finally found a way to repay the man who had rescued her daughter two years ago. She stopped when she noticed that no one was outside. She cautiously made her way towards one of the tents, and heard a soft whimpering coming from inside. She opened the tent flap, and saw a young Argonian woman staring at a dagger. She was a light blue, and couldn't have been older than 20. Seed-Neeus coughed slightly, and the girl looked up at her, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't help any refugees… I couldn't even help Delchkahn…" She burst into tears, and Seed-Neeus' eyes widened as she heard the name. She smiled, and the girl began to look angry. "What's so funny?" she asked, irritated by the older woman standing in her tent.

"Amori's not dead," replied Seed-Neeus softly, "but he is close." The girl's eyes widened as though Seed-Neeus was an angel. "I'm Seed-Neeus; two years ago, Delchkahn Amori rescued my daughter from being sacrificed at Hackdirt." Seed-Neeus proffered a hand. The girl took it, and she helped her up.

"I'm Soul-Swimmer," she said, "and I'm in love with Amori. He saved my life, twice, and accepted me." Soul-Swimmer smiled at Seed-Neeus. "Thank you for bringing him back to me." They exited the tent, and Soul-Swimmer followed Seed-Neeus to where Amori lay. She helped her carry him back to the camp, and woke Ka-Mala. Ka-Mala gasped when she saw Amori, and immediately rushed to his side. "Seed-Neeus, this is Ka-Mala. She's our magic specialist." Ka-Mala grunted as a greeting, too intent on her spell to actually say anything. A blue light washed over Delchkahn's body, and his breathing returned to normal. Soul-Swimmer knelt beside him, cradling his head in her arms as he slept. A small popping was heard as Amori's ribs and spine settled back into place, and the healing was complete. Soul-Swimmer wept happily; she had her love back.

Amori sat up, rubbing his head groggily. This was a day he thought he would never live to see. He looked around. He was in a twin-size roll-out mattress, and Soul-Swimmer lay beside him in a peaceful slumber. He smiled; he had though he would never see her again. Suddenly, he remembered Seed-Neeus. Careful not to disturb Soul-Swimmer, he crawled out from under the covers. He was wearing a simple yet functional tunic and pants, with a belt strapped over his shoulder and on his hip. He winced as he felt the bandages chafe against his flesh, causing his sore muscles to smart. He strode out of the tent, hoping that Seed-Neeus was alright. To his great surprise, the campground was organized and dusted; even if his band were that organized, surely the commotion from his mysterious arrival would have stirred things up a bit! He looked around warily, and noticed that all of the supplies had been wrapped in cloth from old, spare clothes and organized according to function and properties. They were all neatly labeled and inventoried. He even came across an alphabetically ordered list that seemed to be of items they had and items they needed. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Only one person he knew of, even among Cyrodiil's tidy merchants, was this organized. He smiled: this was the work of Seed-Neeus. He surveyed the campground, and heard muttering and complaints.

"Honestly, you'd think Delchkahn's friends would be more organized… and less vulgar!" Seed-Neeus muttered as she found a set of green women's undergarments on the ground. Amori laughed, and she turned around.

"Seed-Neeus," he chuckled, "you truly are the most organized person in all Tamriel." He remembered the time he had spent living with Dar-Ma's mother: his inventory had undergone serious re-organization and cataloging. Seed-Neeus smiled. "How's Dar-Ma?" asked Amori.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, a bright smile on her lips. "I'm a grandmother now! And Dar-Ma married a very respectable young man; an adventurer, like yourself." She sighed, looking into Amori's eyes. "It's a pity you couldn't be there for the wedding, Dar-Ma so wanted you to come!" Amori stared off into the distance, his eyes stern.

"No, she didn't, or at least she wouldn't have if she had known what I had been up to," he said. Seed-Neeus looked confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You saved her life, Amori! I don't think much of anything could change her opinion of you!"

"Seed-Neeus, I was a member of the Dark Brotherhood! The assassins guild! I killed people for money!" he said angrily, cursing himself for ever joining. It's not like he meant to kill that guard in K'vatch; it was an accident, but Lucien didn't care. Seed-Neeus gasped, and Amori related the events of his life to her. He told her how he had gone into Oblivion, how he had seen Martin die, how he had joined the Brotherhood. He told her of when he slew pirates and a warlord, how he fought trolls and other beasts, and how he had killed a tired, old man. He told her how he had found love in Ocheeva, a member of the guild… and how she had died. He told her of the events that followed, how he had met Soul-Swimmer and Rhiihaaj, and he even told her about Rhiihaaj's note. He told her of his battle with Kazaka, and how he had unknowingly brought about the Night Mother's resurrection. "… so," he said after relating his story. "That's my life up to today. Now you tell me if Dar-Ma couls ever regard me as anything more than the murderous dirt that I am." Seed-Neeus stared at him in shock; as she looked into his eyes, she saw the burden of sorrow and pain of a man far more than Amori's young 21 years of age: she saw the burden of an old, tired man on his once bright, youthful face. The sorrow quickly changed to a determination far beyond his age. "Seed-Neeus: go home. You're a merchant, not a warrior, and right now you need to warn Dar-Ma. The Night Mother thinks you're dead, and she thinks I'm dead, but anyone I ever knew is in danger now. She won't stop at my death; she wants to torment my spirit by killing my friends while I can do nothing but watch. Go home, Seed-Neeus. You belong with your family." Amori turned, and began to walk away. Suddenly, a Khajiit on horseback charged past him, cutting him off. The rider dismounted, looking frantic: it was Ra'Jhiradh, one of the publishers of the Black Horse Courier.

"De… Delchkahn Amori!" he cried in astonishment before he saw Seed-Neeus. "Seed-Neeus! You're alright! You haven't been seen in weeks! Your daughter's been… oh no." Ra'Jhiradh turned to look at Amori. Seed-Neeus grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"What? What's going on with my daughter?" she asked Ra'Jhiradh worriedly. The haunted Khajiit looked towards the ground.

"I…I'm sorry, Seed-Neeus. I went looking for Amori to solve this conflict." He turned back to face Amori, his eyes wide. "Chorrol's been destroyed!"

* * *

Oh no! For those of you who haven't either played Oblivion or haven't met Seed-Neeus and Dar-Ma, Chorrol is their hometown. So, in other words, Ra'Jhiradh just told Seed-Neeus that her daughter... is dead! But are Dar-Ma and her family really dead? Did they somehow survive? Or are they now in the vicious clutches of the Night Mother? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	8. Return

Hey everybody! This chapter's called Return for two reasons: One is that Amori returns to Chorrol, and the other I won't tell you. You'll have to read the chapter to find out. Special thanks to Vine Sliver; he has reviewed and supported my story from the beginning. Anyways, thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Seed-Neeus' legs crumpled beneath her. She dropped to the ground, her eyes wide in disbelief. She looked up at Ra'Jiradh. "Was… was Chorrol really destroyed?" she asked, shocked at the news that her home was gone. "Is it really gone?" Ra'Jiradh nodded sadly. Tears began to roll down the middle-aged Argonian's face, dripping off her jaw onto the soil below. Her daughter, her son-in-law, and her grandson, all gone. She could imagine what it would have been like; Dar-Ma holding her son while she watched the merciless Dark Guardians slaughter her husband. Seed-Neeus imagined her daughter, terrified, as the Guardians closed in for the kill. Ra'Jiradh walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You know," he said comfortingly, "their bodies haven't been found… they could still be alive." Amori walked back to the camp stockpile, retrieved FrostFire, and began cleaning its blade, inspecting the enchanted steel for any deficiencies.

"What are you doing?" asked Seed-Neeus, confused. Amori grimaced.

"You heard Ra'Jiradh," he said calmly. "He said that your family might still be alive." He paused, as if deep in thought. "I rescued Dar-Ma from Hackdirt; she's my responsibility, and not to mention a close friend. We're going to Chorrol, and we're finding your family." He stopped talking, and finished his thought to himself. "And if they're dead," he thought, rage flashing across his eyes, "their killers will soon join them!"

* * *

The Night Mother scowled as the Dark Guardians excavated her tomb; the undead minions were so slow, and were barely better than beastfolk slave labor. In fact, the only thing better about the Guardians was that they never grew tired, never complained, and didn't have the smell of Argonians or Khajiit. Finally, her tomb was unearthed, and she strode down into its bowels. There, she found what she was looking for: the broken corpse of her servant Kazaka, and the shattered remains of his blade, DeathFang. She placed her hands over the Akavir's charred, mutilated husk, and dropped a black spellstone into the crevice in his chest. She began to chant, and his body reknit itself, his burns healing and his cuts sealing themselves over. Kazaka's body rose from the altar, and floated into the air. Suddenly, life returned to his dead eyes, only now, the golden orbs had turned pitch black, lacking whites and possessing blood red irises. He breathed deeply as he landed on the stone floor, and bowed to his mistress, the Night Mother.

"My Lady," he said, his skull touching the ground, "I failed you. Take my head!" The Night Mother chuckled, a small smile playing across her lips.

"Kazaka, that's why you're the perfect servant," she said playfully. "Loyal, heartless, and with no hesitation in the face of death. I have a job for you, Kazaka." She picked up the fragments of DeathFang, and the evil blade reformed in her hands, its length now bearing a single black stripe running down its center. She frowned slightly as she probed the spirit realm; neither Amori nor Seed-Neeus' souls were there. Somehow, they had survived the fall, but her champion would soon remedy that situation. "You are to kill Amori, but first, you will torture and murder his lover and his friends in front of his eyes." Kazaka rose, smiling as the Night Mother handed him the wicked sword DeathFang. "You are to make him suffer before he dies. You are to make him know what it is to betray Sithis! If you succeed…" she paused, letting the vicious Akavir, already smiling in bloodlust, hang on her every word. "I will grant you a second life!" Kazaka grinned evilly: a chance for revenge, coupled with a shot at new life! His black eyes turned towards the Night Mother, a malicious grin splayed across his lips. He licked his lips, venom dripping from his mouth.

"When do I sstart?"

* * *

Soul-Swimmer groaned in bed, feeling that something was missing. She opened her eyes, and saw that Amori was gone. She sat up and drew the blankets over her naked body, puzzled. She looked around, and saw Delchkahn walk through the door. He was fully armored and battle-ready; he even had three daggers on his belt, one of them Mehrunes Razor. "Delchkahn…" she said, confused. "What's going on?" He handed her her armor, and she noticed that Death's Kiss was wrapped in the Shrouded Armor's folds.

"Get dressed," he said coldly, anger touching his voice. "We've got a long way to go."

* * *

Rhiihaaj, Sehiiri, Soul-Swimmer, and Ka-Mala stood in a line before Delchkahn Amori and Seed-Neeus, all dressed and armed. Just a few minutes ago they had finished packing up camp, and were wondering why Amori was so irritated. "Rhiihaaj," he said, "step forward." Rhiihaaj stepped forward hesitantly, and Amori punched him across the face, knocking the red Khajiit to the ground. The group gasped, shocked at what Amori had just done. He got up angrily, touching his bleeding lip tenderly.

"What was that for?" he asked, annoyed.

"That's for that little note you left for Soul-Swimmer," Amori said calmly. Rhiihaaj blushed slightly.

"Ah… I guess I deserved that," he said, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. Amori turned to face the rest of his friends.

"My friends, I called you here today because I want you to know something." He took a deep breath, readying himself for the news he was about to relay. "Chorrol… has been destroyed." His companions gasped; cities weren't destroyed often. "I am about to go on a search and rescue mission. Seed-Neeus' family lived in Chorrol, and I am going to do whatever I can to find them. You all know who is behind this: the Night Mother. This journey will probably end in my confrontation of her and her sons." He steadied himself, preparing himself for what he was about to say. "This is something I must do alone. Goodbye, my friends." He turned to face Soul-Swimmer. "Goodbye." He started to walk off, when he felt his love's delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Delchkahn, I'm going with you," she said. Amori sighed; she wasn't going to make this easy. He turned to face her, and held her shoulders in his hands, gazing into her soft, blue eyes.

"Soul," he said, using his nickname for her. "I can't let you come with me. It's going to be dangerous, and I…" he paused, choking on his words. "I can't lose you. I can't lose another person to the Night Mother." Soul-Swimmer looked at him grimly.

"Then train me," she said determinedly. "You're the best warrior I've ever seen; teach me to fight like you! Teach me to fight, and you won't have to leave me behind." Tears began to well in her strong eyes, and her expression melted. "Delchkahn… don't go!" She wrapped Amori in a hug, and he sighed in resignation.

"Alright, alright," he said, smiling. "The spirit of an Atronach," he thought to himself, smiling. "I'll teach you to fight like I can." Suddenly, Rhiihaaj's voice cut through the silence.

"Hey! Lizard-boy!" he said, adventure glinting in his hazel eyes. "You don't think you can keep me and Sehiiri out of the fun, do you?" Sehiiri wrapped her arms around Rhiihaaj, a bright, adventurous grin on her muzzle.

"I'm going too!" Everyone turned, and saw Ka-Mala hoisting a stack of books into her backpack. "You guys need a good sorcerer," she said, and even though they didn't want to admit it, they did need a good sorcerer if they wanted to survive the battle with the Night Mother and her undead hordes Amori smiled; he had never had friends like this. He had never had friends who would follow him into the jaws of death, who may even follow him through the gates of Oblivion itself. He smiled, and looked at his friends.

"Thank you."

* * *

Dar-Ma huddled in a small hollow. It was made of a piece of collapsed roof, a well, and a headstone. While it wasn't the best place to hide, it provided adequate shelter. She held her baby close to her, taking comfort in the little boy's presence. Suddenly, she heard a snapping noise. Her husband, Dra-Shek, emerged from outside of the shelter. He was clad in a full suit of leather armor, and had a glass longsword in his hand. He sheathed his sword, and knelt down, crawling into the shelter. "Hey," he said.

"Dra-Shek… everyone's dead," replied Dar-Ma, on the verge of tears. "Earana, Rallus… they're all gone!" Dra-Shek hugged his wife, taking her in his strong arms.

"Shhhhhh, it's alright, it's alright," he said soothingly. "We survived, didn't we? We survived the assault, and we'll survive the aftermath. At least there's no Oblivion gate blocking our way out of town!" Dra-Shek grimaced at the dark memory: he had been at K'Vatch when it was attacked those two long years ago. He had heard the screams of the dying, and he had been trapped inside the city with Martin and the others. He had been helpless; that was why he had taken up the blade. Dar-Ma looked up at him, still cradling their child in her arms. He was a small, red Argonian, and had the head-spines his father did. He very much resembled Dra-Shek, except for one thing: his eyes. Everyone agreed that the little Argonian had his mother's eyes.

"Do you really think so?" Dar-Ma asked her husband, leaning into his broad chest. She could hear his heartbeat: strong, steady, constant. He looked back down at her, smiling.

"I know so," he said. Suddenly, a dart pierced the back of Dra-Shek's neck, rendering him unconscious. Dar-Ma screamed as the Dark Guardians descended on them, led by a what seemed to be a golden-scaled Argonian: an Akavir. A similar dart pierced her neck, and the world went black.

* * *

The journey to Chorrol had taken five days. Over the course of the journey, Amori had seen Soul-Swimmer improve in the arts of swordsmanship, archery, and, to his surprise, destruction, which Ka-mala had been teaching her, at an amazing pace. On the first day, Amori could disarm and pin her with a short blade and while barely paying attention. The second day was much the same. On the third, however, Soul-Swimmer was able to put Amori on the defensive. On the fourth day, he was forced to use a longsword, and on the fifth, Soul-Swimmer was able to pin _him_. As for her improvements in archery, on the first day, she couldn't hit the bulls-eye on a straw target. Now, she could fell moving deer with a single shot. Amori smiled: she was amazing. His thoughts came to a halt, however, as they came to Chorrol. It's tall, stone walls were smashed in on themselves, crumbling and in ruins. Fires raged from the city's buildings, and the chapel of Akatosh had been utterly destroyed. Amori took a deep breath, and walked through the front gates. Seed-Neeus gasped when she saw the destruction: the burnt corpses littering the ground, and the houses that were mere husks of buildings. She had never seen such a display of death before. Amori grimaced: it was just like K'Vatch. "The night Mother is practically a Deadric Lord," he thought to himself, disgusted by the stench of burning bodies that hung heavily in the air. Suddenly, Seed-Neeus gasped: they had come to the ruins of Dar-Ma's house. She ran to the pile of rubble, and stopped suddenly as she reached a small shelter built from collapsed roof, a well, and a headstone. Amori walked over to her. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried, fearing the worst. Seed-Neeus' eyes were wide, and her face was pale. She pointed to a scrap of parchment on the headstone. Amori picked it up; it was a note.

_Amori and Seed-Neeus:_

_Yes, I know you're alive. Yes, I know that you are in Chorrol. Yes, I know exactly where you are, how you got there, and why you came. I even know that you've been training that little excuse for an assassin, Amori. Yes, I know far more than you do, and now, I know something that I am going to share with you: I know where Dar-Ma and her family are. Do you want to know where they are? I bet you do. I'd bet my life that you do! Well, I'll tell you where they are: they're with me, and I have my blade trained on them. Five days, Amori. Meet me in five days, or they die. I know what you're thinking. You want to know where I am! I'm right, aren't I? Well, I'm not going to tell you. That would make things too easy. All I'll tell you is this: I am hiding where the dead will never rest, and where their leader fell to your blade. I hope you remember where that is, Amori! I hope you know where that is, or your little friends are all going to die! Five days, "Master", five days. I'll see you then, Amori._

_Signed,_

_Kazaka_

Amori trembled in rage as he finished the note, crumpling the parchment in his hands. Kazaka was alive?! How had he survived?! And worse, he was using Dar-Ma and her family as bait for him! Amori trembled in rage and anger, and dropped the crumpled piece of parchment to the ground. He had made a mistake when he left Kazaka's corpse in one piece. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

* * *

Yes, Kazaka is back from the dead. Only now, he's far more than normal. He has special abilities that are to be revealed later on! YAY SUPERPOWERS! Anyways, please review! I welcome all feedback, good or bad!

Bye the way, it turns out Dar-Ma is a sharpshooter. Who knew?

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf

PS: Do you guys actually read these author's notes? If you do, do you find them interesting, or just annoying? Please respond, and check out my poll!


	9. Padfoot

Ok! So, Kazaka is alive once more, and he has Dar-Ma and her family in his clutches! Oh no!

Anyways, sorry for the big delay, I had school and I came down with something, so my update speed isn't whatit normally is. Anyways, I hope you guys (And I do sincerely hope more than one person is reading this) enjoy the story! And you'll just have to find out why it's called Padfoot!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

_

* * *

Amori ran through the underground caverns. He was a newcomer to the world of advebturing, and it had been thouroughly proven to him now that two skeletal warriors were chasing him. He glanced over his shoulder; the skeletons were drawing closer, their bleached skulls gleaming in the light from his torch. Up ahead, he saw a large, square stone platform: an ancient Ayleid trap. He was familiar with this kind: the platform smashed into spikes on the ceiling when someone walked onto it before returining to its resting place in the floor. Frantically, he formulated a plan. He stopped, waiting until his bony pursuers had almost reached him, then sprinted onto the stone platform. The skeletons followed, and the platform began to rise at an amazing speed. The skeletons stopped in confusion, and Amori leaped off the side of the platform, rolling as he hit the ground. He heard a thunderous crash, and turned to see bonemeal filtering out of the gap between the now-raised platform and the stone ceiling of the ruins. He got up, and walked on, his torch casting flickering shadows on the walls. He came into a huge stone chamber. At its center was a pyramid-like structure, a set of stone stairs on each of its four sides. Cautiously, he made his way to the top of the pyramid. As he reached the platform on its top, he saw an ancient stone sarcophagus, gold inlaid into its surface. Its surface was covered in ancient Ayleid runes: runes which Amori couldn't read. Then, he noticed a large crystal on the top of the coffin: the legendary Great Welkynd Stone. Cautiously, he reached out to take the magical gem. He was about to grasp it when suddenly, the stone doors on each of the crypt's four walls slid shut, sealing off the chamber. The Varla Stone sank into the surface of the Sarcophagus, and the lid slid apart into four pieces, each sliding into the depths of the oval coffin. A withered corpse was revealed. Amori cautiously approached the body, and its eyes flicked open, glowing an icy blue. It rose out of the chamber, floating in the air horribly. In one hand it clutched an ancient staff. It was garbed in ancient, red, robes; now moth-eaten, but once fit for a king. On its head was perched an elaborate, golden crown. Amori cried out in pain as he heard a voice in his head, terrible and foreboding. "HOW DARE YOU DISTURB MY SLUMBER!" it screamed, multitoned and omniscient. "HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME, THE LAST KING OF MISCARCAND?!" The Lich raised its arms, and four doors at the base of the pyramid slid open, releasing four Zombie Guardians into the chamber. A wave of blue energy pulsed outward from the Lich's body, and Amori cried out in fear and pain as he was flung off the edge of the pyramid structure. He looked down in horror at the zombies, their arms outstretched. A rotten finger brushed his face, and-_

Amori sat bolt upright in his tent, panting. He touched his face, releaved when he found no traces of mortified flesh there. His body was lathered in sweat, and his pupils had contracted to near nonexistence. He shuddered at the terrible memory of the King of Miscarcand, the ancient Ayleid ruler who had nearly killed him. Suddenly, he felt a hand alight on his shoulder. He nearly drew his sword and attacked the hand's owner until he realized that it wasn't a zombified hand. He turned, and saw Soul-Swimmer lying beside him, a look of concern in her eyes. "Are you ok?" she asked, staring worriedly at her lover's gaunt face.

"I… I'm fine," replied Amori, his breathing returning to normal. "Just a dream, just a memory of a battle long past." Soul-Swimmer arched an eyebrow at him; it was obvious that his memory was not just any battle. He sighed, and began to elaborate. "It was three years ago, I had just recently been freed from the Imperial Prison by the Blades when they tried to save the emperor, Uriel Septim, from an assassin attack using an escape route that led through my cell. I was trying to make a name for myself as an adventurer, and decided to take on an Ayleid ruin. I don't know much about the ancient language, but I knew enough about the legends and stories to recognize the ruins as Miscarcand. I descended into the ruin's depths, battling and evading skeletons and zombies along the way. I was nearly killed by traps and monsters so many times that day, I'm surprised I still had any luck left for when I actually entered Oblivion!" Amori chuckled, the fear of the memory subsiding. "Anyways, I was running from a pair of skeletons, when I led them onto a trap and stumbled across an elaborate stone door. I went through the door, and entered an immense stone chamber known as Morimath. In the center was a tall stone pyramid, a stone staircase on each side. I climbed the pyramid, and found a sarcophagus at the top. On top of the sarcophagus was the Great Welkynd Stone. When I reached to take it, it sank into the sarcophagus, and a lich known as the King of Miscar-" Amori stopped, and leapt out of the bedroll. He ran to his desk, leaving Soul-Swimmer sitting, puzzled, in the bed, holding the covers up over her body. Amori swept his armor and equipment roughly off the desk, leaving it to clatter loudly on the ground. He stopped his rampaged search, and held up a crumpled piece of paper: the note Kazaka left. He uncrumpled the parchment, and read the clue that the evil Akaviri had left him to the location he was to be at in now three days time. _I am hiding where the dead will never rest, and where their leader fell to your blade_. He turned around slowly, grinning adventurously. "Where the dead will never rest, and where their leader fell to my blade!" Soul-Swimmer nodded, wondering what Amori was getting at. "I killed the Lich King of Miscarcand, ruler of the Ayleid dead!" He looked at the note in his hand: if looks could start items ablaze, the note would have burst into flames before his glare. "Kazaka is hiding in Miscarcand!"

* * *

Dar-Ma held her child close to her chest, wincing as the wrist irons chafed her wrists. She was one in a line of many prisoners: Khajiit, Argonians, and Altmer: all races hated by the Dunmer. Just in front of her was her husband, Dra-Shek, and behind her was a small group of Khajiit. The prisoners were bound together by a long chains running through loops on their manacles, so that if one of them tripped and fell, all of them would stumble. The group was a ragged bunch: about 50 or so worn people in the clothes they were wearing when they had been taken. Having been led around Cyyrodiil, and finally up to the ruins of Miscarcand, what had probably once been decent outfits were now torn, dirty rags. There, they had waited for two days, barely being given enough food to survive. She heard a cry, and turned to look behind her. The young Khajiit girl following directly behind her had tripped on a strip of cloth that had torn itself loose from her dress. Almost immediately, Dar-Ma felt the jerk on her wrists, and almost fell over. Taking advantage of the confusion, Dra-Shek turned around and hugged his wife. "Shhh," he said, holding a frightened Dar-Ma close to his body. "Everything's going to be fine." He released Dar-Ma from the embrace, and helped the frightened and weak Khajiit girl to her feet. He could see her ribs beneath her clothes, and as he helped her to her feet, could feel the hard bones in her fingers and arms. She had been starved even more than the rest of them; one of the other prisoners must have been taking her food. Dra-Shek looked over her shoulder at the muscular Khajiit following her. The dirty man was obviously a bandit, and he smirked at Dra-Shek. It was obvious that the dirt-encrusted Khajiit had been taking the girl's food, and probably wanted more as well. Dra-Shek shot him a glare that would shatter stone, and turned to face the girl. The skin on her face clung tightly to her bones, her cheeks thin and hollow. Her lips were parched, and her fur was ragged. Dra-Shek shuddered at the sight; she looked like she was already dead. "Are you alright?" he asked as she regained her footing, her back bent in a weak slouch, her arms crossed over her stomach.

"I'm okay," she replied hoarsely, her voice barely audible. The bandit hadn't just been taking her food, but had also been stealing her water. Dra-Shek pulled a small package out from a pocket in his armor, and handed it to the girl.

"Here," he said, "a rations package. It's not much, just a small pastry, but it's filled with dried meat, and in the center is an edible water-filled pouch." She looked up at him, Argonian had just given her some of his food and water: she had always been taught to hate Argonians.

"Sir, I couldn't…" she replied nervously. Dra-Shek nodded encouragingly, and she gave in. She grabbed the small package in his outstretched hand, and slowly unwrapped it as she felt the tug of the moving prisoners ahead of her on her manacles. She resumed the slow march into Miscarcand, and took a small bite of the pastry. As the crust broke beneath her teeth, she felt the moist pastry very nearly dissolve over her tongue. It had the taste of a baguette, and while to most this would seem mundane and ordinary, it was like a fine wine or meal to the starved Khajiit.

"What's your name?" whispered Dar-Ma from in front of her.

"Padfoot," replied the young Khajiit, savoring the pastry as she nibbled away. Her teeth pierced the layer of dried meat, and her eyes widened as the salty meat brushed her tongue. Padfoot shivered at the wave of flavor; she hadn't eaten in the past two days, and the jerky was like ambrosia to her. She nibbled the pastry away around the water-sack, savoring its flavor. Finally, only the water sack remained. She opened her mouth wide, and placed the entirety of the pouch on her tongue. She snapped her jaws shut, and let the water trickle down her throat as her teeth pierced the pouch. The water soothed her parched esophagus, and she let some of it trickle out of her mouth and lapped it across her dry lips with her pink tongue. As she finished her meal, she felt the line come to a halt. She looked past the line of prisoners, and saw a group of Brotherhood wizards placing locking spells around the edges of a large, square section of stone in the middle of the chamber. They motioned for a Dark Guardian, and nodded as the square section jerked slightly up and down, struggling against the spells, as the skeleton walked onto it. The line of prisoners began moving again, and cautiously, Padfoot stepped onto the hidden platform. It jerked up and down, but didn't fly into the ceiling like it was supposed to. Just as she reached the far end, however, the locking spells failed. Padfoot screamed, and the platform sped towards the ceiling, carrying her and about 10 other prisoners to their doom.

* * *

Dar-Ma was yanked off the ground by her wrists as the platform rose suddenly. The jostling woke her baby, who began to wail loudly. Dar-Ma put her feet against the stone wall, pushing herself up so that she could cradle her child more effectively. "Shhhh," she whispered into her son's ear. She gasped as blood began to ebb over the edges of the platform, and she realized, horrified, that Padfoot had been on that platform. She heard a call from below; it was Dra-Shek.

"DAR-MA!" he cried worriedly. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" She looked down at him, and nodded as the blood began to drip over her feet.

* * *

Padfoot screamed as the platform rose towards a downward-pointing spike filled hollow in the ceiling. She closed her eyes, waiting for the spikes to pierce her flesh. The platform stopped, and Padfoot opened her eyes. She screamed when she saw the bloody hand just a couple inches from her face. It belonged to the bandit. A spike was sticking into the top of his head, exiting his body between his legs. Blood trickled from his eyes and mouth, his face frozen in en expression of horror. Padfoot felt something wet and slimy at her feet. She looked down, and vomited: the bandit's intestines had slipped across the blood-slicked surface of the platform, and had become entangled with her feet. Slowly, the platform lowered, and the corpses of the other prisoners slid off of the spikes. They were all Khajiit: 4 males and 6 females, 2 of each children. The platform, now covered in blood, slid back into the ground, and the prisoners were ushered through a door and into a large hall. A hall called Morimath.

* * *

Ok, so Padfoot very nearly died, and witnessed the deaths of children! So pleasent... Anyways, the prisoners are being led into Morimath, the chamber in which the King of Miscarcand was fought! (I stumbled into Miscarcand at a very low level, and so I had to fight multiple headless zombies at around level 4-10!) What will happen next? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	10. The Face of Death

This is it. The final battle between Amori and Kazaka! Who will win? Will Delchkahn meet his doom in the forgotten chambers of MIscarcand? Or will he defeat Kazaka and the Night Mother? Read on to find out!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Seed-Neeus shuddered as she stepped up tot the door of Miscarcand, followind Amori closely. The above ground ruins were littered with broken stones and bits of clay, the once-beuatiful marble arches crumbling in upon theselves. The skeletons of goblins and bandits littered the ground, enemies Amori had fought long ago. The stone door to Miscarcand loomed ominously before her, small bloodstains evident on its worn surface. Amori opened the door, pushing the stone slab aside into its open position, and turned to face his group. "This is Miscarcand. Inside, we will have to evade traps, likely fight undead, and eventually, meet Kazaka and possibly the Night Mother herself. If any of you wish to leave, now is the time to do so." He paused, waiting for replies. He waited for what seemed like hours, and he heard no response. He sighed, and stepped to the side of the entrance, allowing his friends through. Soul-Swimmer was the last to enter Miscarcand, and as she passed him, Amori took her by the shoulder and pulled her around to face him, his face just a couple inches from hers. "Soul-Swimmer, I want… I want you to know, that no matter what happens, I will always be there for you." Soul-Swimmer looked up at him, and slowly, they kissed, holding their embrace as long as they could. Eventually, they broke out of the kiss, and gazed into each others' eyes. Holding hands, they descended into Miscarcand.

* * *

The Night Mother paced calmly before the line of prisoners, her arms crossed behind her back, her sons standing behind her. She smiled wickedly at the line of ragged Altmer, Khajiit, and Argonians, her thin lips curved ever so slightly upward. Her ebon skin reflected the torchlight like a sheet of obsidian, shadows dancing across her lithe form. She was clad in nothing but thin, silk robes, and she looked like a goddess of death. Slowly, she walked towards the prisoners, taking pleasure in their terrified expressions. "You all know why you're here, right?" she asked, her voice ringing eerily in the stone chamber like a set of chimes. She got no response, and she sauntered up to a tall, young, Altmer man, placing her hands on his chest. She smiled, and plunged an obsidian dagger into his heart, smiling wickedly, licking the blood off her lips as it splashed on her face. The man gasped, and slumped to the ground, the weight of his body pulling the line of prisoners in closer to it. "You're here to die," the Night Mother said simply. She laughed, the strange sound both evil and melodic at the same time; not a cackle, but a dangerous sound nonetheless. "The Dark Lord Sithis will feast on your blood, and will join us in this world! Your sould will be his bridge to Cyyrodiil, and when he arrives, Lord Sithis will reign supreme!" She laughed again, throwing her head back, her white hair falling over her shoulders. "Kazaka!" she called, and the golden-scaled Akavir came out of the shadows, black cloth spread across his dark armor.

"You called, Missstresss?" he asked, his words a snake's hiss.

"Begin the slaughter. Spare none save the Argonian wench and her family." Kazaka smiled, and drew a serrated, black dagger from within the folds of his robe. He walked to the end of the line of prisoners, and smiled as his victims' screams filled the air.

* * *

Amori crouched low to the ground, FlashFreeze in his hand, a glass arrow drawn across its bowstring. He crept through Miscarcand's dark corridors, ready for anything. More than once he had had to warn his friends of oncoming traps, and more than once he had almost lost his head. He cautiously led the group into a large chamber, and crouched even lower when he saw several skeletons in the room, accompanied by a nether lich. He counted seven skeletons in all, and the lich clutched what appeared to be a staff of lightning in its bony hand. Delchkahn signaled for the group to halt and draw their weapons, and he took steady aim at the lich's head, putting away the glass arrow, and insteaddrawing one of his explosive arrows: arrows that spread the magical effects placed on them by a bow over a 15 fot radius. He lined his sights up with the circlet on the undead wizard's head, aiming just above the direct cranial case, and let fly. The arrow whistled throught the air, and the lich turned just in time for the arrow to drill straight between its cold, dead eyes. The lich howled, and its head exploded in a bright flash, electricity and ice lancing throughout the room. The skeletons howled as their bones suffered the stress of the elements, and two of them crumbled into piles of dust on the spot. Delchkahn and his friends stood up and charged the skeletal champions, swords readied. Soul-Swimmer held an enchanted glass scimitar called Song in her right hand, clutching its ornate hilt tightly. It was about 3.5 feet long, its thin, blue blade curving gracefully along its length. A strip of silver ran along the back of the blade, and its hilt was a dark, mystical blue. It seemed to reflect all the colors of the rainbow, the wash of color running down its blade as it sliced through the air. She wore a suit of armor crafted of the same material as sond, perfectly molded to her body. It was smooth and graceful, and seemed to shift as Soul-Swimmer changed fighting styles: when she was trying to remain hidden, the armor darkened to a deep blue, swallowing light into itself, and when she wasfighting openly, it reflected bright colors onto surfaces around her. In her left hand, she held a bright blue shield, shaped like a fast-falling raindrop. Its surface was smooth, and slightly rounded to dissipate the force of impacts. She thought back to when she had received these items; they had been gifts from Delchkahn, gifts from when she had completed her training. Soul-Swimmer was jostled back to the present as she narrowly dodged a strike from a glass claymore wielded by a skeletal champion. She nimbly leapt to the side, the blade flying past her body, only an inch between her body and its edge. It smashed intot he stone floor with a resounding ring, and she took the opportunity to attack the skeleton. Soul-Swimmer lashed out with Song, slicing into the skeleton's ribcage. As it made contact with the ribs, it sliced cleanly through three of the bones, and a beautiful pitch resonated in the air. Soul-Swimmer was shocked; she had never used Song in combat before, and she now knew the power of the sword. It was almost like the blade slipped through its targets without actually striking them, and as it did, produced a pitch that would vibrate through her enemy's body and stun them. The skeleton jerked suddenly, its body becoming stiff as a board, and Soul-Swimmer brought her sword down on its neck, cleanly decapitating it. A bright tone rang through the air as the blade passed through the skeleton's spine. The skeleton's body hung headless in the air for a moment, then collapsed to the ground, almost seeming like it was sighing as it fell. She stared in shock for a few moments; how could Song have done that? She heard a loud clang, and turned to see Amori dispatching the final skeleton. He wiped the dust from his blade and walked over to Soul-Swimmer.

"Wow," he chuckled. "I made that sword, but never expected it to do what it just did!" Soul-Swimmer looked down dumbly at the sword in her hand, its blue blade humming musically. "I expected it to have lighning based and slight paralysis effects, but this?" He held his jawfor a moment, pondering as to why the sword he had given his lover had the amazing effects it did. "Tell me; did you name it?" Soul-Swimmer nodded.

"I named it Song. I don't know why, but something inside me told me that that was its name." Amori nodded, grinning slightly.

"The sword's truly yours, then."

"What makes you say that?" Soul-Swimmer asked confusedly.

"Song told you its name," Amori replied bluntly. "When I named FrostFire, I felt the same feeling towards its name. FrostFire told me its name, and it is much less effective in anyone else's hands. You saw what it did when I fought Kazaka: it was incredible! Song is far more than an ordinary sword; take good care of it, and it will protect you." As Amori stopped talking, both he and Soul-Swimmer noticed that Song was humming an actual tune: an ancient Argonian lullaby that had been passed down through the generations. Both of their parents had sung it to them when they were children. The song died down, and the blade continued to whisper and , Amori felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Seed-Neeus, her eyes determined.

"Let's go save my daughter," she said, anger in her voice. Amori guided the group around the square trap in the center of the room, but stopped as he noticed the ten corpses on the platform. They were Khajiit, manacled and in chains. Four of them were children. Delchkahn gritted his teeth, and led his friends through the door, and into Morimath.

* * *

Padfoot stood stock still in fear. She dared not turn her head to look at the prisoner next to her. She heard his whimpering and his pleas for mercy, then she heard a wet slice, and a dull gargle as the Argonian man's body slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his jugular. She turned her head ever so slightly, and saw Kazaka licking the blood from his dagger, grining, his black eyes gleaming. He strode over to her, smiling maliciously. He stepped behind her, and thrust his cold, black dagger up against her neck. She lifted her head slightly, her heart pounding as tears began to spill from her green eyes. "Sso," whispered Kazaka into her ear, his long, black tongue flicking past her face as he spoke, "it'ss your turn!" He laughed, and pressed the blade up against her throat. She gasped as she felt the cold blade slice her skin ever so slightly, and felt the blood trickling down her neck. "You know," Kazaka said thoughtfully, "it's been a long time since I fed!" Before she could understand what he meant, the Akavir plunged his fangs into her neck. She made a small choking noise as he drank her blood, growing weaker by the second. Satisfied, Kazaka withdrew his bite before Padfoot lost consciousness. "Mmmm," he whispered, savoring the taste of Padfoot's blood. "That was delicssiouss!" Padfoot began to truly weep, tears streaming down her face.

"Please… I want to live!" she said, her words choked by sobs. Kazaka clicked his tongue, feigning sympathy.

"I know, I know. We all do, don't we?" He laughed, an evil, rasping sound issuing from his throat. "But some of us just have to die!" Just as he was about to tear out the poor girl's windpipe, however, the stone door to Morimath was flung to the ground. He stopped, and looked to see what was happening. As the dust cleared, he grinned: Amori was standing in the rubble of the ancient door, his friends and his lover close by. His revenge was at hand!

* * *

Amori blinked rapidly as the dust settled, clearing the dirt from his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Kazaka, the Night Mother, the Black Hand, a group of Brotherhood Initiates, and along line of dead prisoners on the stone pyramid at the center of the room. Kazaka held a young Khajiit girl close to him, a black, serrated dagger at her throat. Next to the girl stood Dar-Ma and her family: Dar-Ma's husband held her in his arms, and between the two was a crying baby boy. Seed-Neeus gasped; that was her family! Amori glared at Kazaka. "Let her go Kazaka!" he demanded, enraged at the slaughter of so many innocents. "Come down here and fight!" Kazaka laughed, and pulled his dagger away from Padfoot's neck. Just as she let out her breath, however, he plunged its blade into her belly. She screamed as the dagger pierced her flesh, blood flying from her mouth as Kazaka brutally twisted the dagger. He pulled it out of her body, and a stream of blood poured from her maw, spilling onto the ground as her body collapsed. "No!" Delchkahn cried, angry that he wasn't able to save the young Khajiit. Kazaka laughed, and leapt down from his perch atop the pyramid. He hit the ground, not even rolling to dissipate the considerable impact. It was then that Delchkahn noticed Kazaka's eyes. He turned to his friends, his eyes frantic. "Everyone, stay back!" he cried before rushing at Kazaka. He swung FrostFire, expecting it to decapitate Kazaka, who had not yet even drawn his sword. To his great surprise, his blade met metal. He opened his eyes, and saw Kazaka standing calmly before him, DeathFang in his hand, blocking FrostFire, its black blade dripping green liquid. Amori smirked. "So, you truly are a Deathborn." Kazaka laughed.

"A gift from the Night Mother,"he said, motioning to his sword. "Come, master, let's dance!" For the second time, Amori and Kazaka engaged in combat. Their swords flashed through the air, clashing into each other with resounding tones. Amori was forced onto the defensive, and his shield soon took so many hits from Kazaka's blade that it snapped in two. Amori grinned, and threw the broken shards to the ground, gripping his katana with both hands. He and Kazaka fought like they were engaged in a mad waltz, twirling around each other, their blades flashing in the torchlight, their feet moving with blinding speed. Slowly, they made their way up to the top of the pyramid, and the Brotherhood cleared the battlefield of everything other than corpses. The stone staircases slid into the ground, and now Amori and Kazaka fought on a small, stone tower: one small slip and the other combatant would fall to their doom. Amori opened his consciousness to his sword, and his eyes began to glow with blue flames, FrostFire leaving burning trails in the air. He dodged a swipe from DeathFang, and lunged at Kazaka. The evil Akavir dodged to the side, and swept his blade low, lunging forward, trying to cut off Amori's legs. Delchkahn jumped over the fearsome Akavir, doing a full flip before landing behind him. He brought his sword down, but Kazaka had rolled onto the ground and blocked with dDeathFang. Everyone in the room watched as the two fighters battled, their movements a beautiful dance of death. Amori drove Kazaka to the edge of the pillar, and finally shoved him off. Kazaka caught the ledge, and launched himself over Amori's head. He landed behind the Argonian, and punched him in the back. Amori screamed in agony as he felt two of his ribs snap under Kazaka's fist and fell to the ground. As he got up, Kazaka punched him across the jaw, sending him sprawling onto the stone floor. Amori had readied FrostFire when Kazaka kicked it out of his hand, sending the katana skittering over the edge of the pillar. He placed his black sword against Amori's neck, and the two glared at each other.

"Do it!" Delchkahn spat, prepared for what was to come. Kazaka grinned and pulled back his arm. Time seemed to slow down for Amori as Kazaka's blade came down towards him. He heard Soul-Swimmer scream, he heard Kazaka laugh, and then, most peculiarly, Kazaka froze. He looked down, and saw a small, black piece of metal protruding from his chest: his dagger. He turned his head, and saw Padfoot standing behind him, he stomach still bearing the wound that had killed her. Kazaka looked confused as she pulled the blade out from his back. He turned around and slumped to his knees.

"How did you ssurvive?" he asked, bewildered. Padfoot had tears in her eyes, and she pulled her lips back into a feral snarl. Her canines were far longer than normal, and her green eyes were already flecked with red.

"You made me a vampire, you bastard!" She screamed in fury, and plunged the black dagger into Kazaka's skull. He smiled, and his body began to dissolve into wisps of smoke. He rose to his feet, grinning. He turned to face Amori as his body dissolved, and said "We will meet again, when the four nations become one!" Then his head dissolved into smoke, and the dagger clattered to the ground. The stone staircases rose from the floor: Kazaka was gone.

* * *

Padfoot stared at herself, watching the wound in her belly close. Suddenly, she became very dizzy, and slumped to the ground. Everything was a blur; she saw a young Argonian woman run up the stairs to the purple Argonian man that lay on the platform, and she saw the Night Mother and the Black Hand slowly walk up the stairs as well. The last thing she remembered was falling off the edge of the platform, and everything went black.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer and Delchkahn embraced at the top of the pillar. Suddenly, they heard a clapping from behind them. They turned, and saw the Night Mother and her five sons. The Dunmer woman clapped her hands steadily, a smirk on her face. "So, you managed to defeat my servant," she said tauntingly. The platform sank into the ground, and the Black Hand rushed at the group of adventurers, one for each of them. "Let's see how you fare against my sons!"

* * *

Amori had barely picked up his sword as he blocked an attack from one of the Night Mother's sons. The Dunmer was a tall and muscular young man, but was obviously the oldest of the five brothers. "I am Soroth, eldes son of the Night Mother, and Listener of the Black Hand." Soroth smiled. "I will take pleasure in killing you today!" He drew his blade back, and lunged at Amori. Delchkahn rolled to the side, out of the way, calling on his blade's power. He felt it surge through him, and luinged at Soroth. Their blades clashed again and again as the two circled each other, each wielding their sword in both hands. Licks of flame spat through the air as the combatants gought, and the temperature around them dropped considerably. The two fought, long and hard, their blades striking each other effortlessly. Amori leapt backwards, dodging a swing from Soroth, and rolled forwards, his blade leading as he got to his feet. Soroth sidestepped calmly, and brought his blade down. Amori felt a searing pain, and knew that something was missing. He looked down, and saw his left hand lying on the ground in front of him. He screamed in agony, and slashed wildly at Soroth. The Dunmer neatly sidestepped each swipe, not even breathing heavy. He rammed the hilt of his sword into Amori's gut, and punched Delchkahn across the face. Just as he was about to land the finishing blow, however, he felt something both hot and cold in his gut. He looked downm, and to his horror, saw Frostfire imbedded up to its hilt in his stomach. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his corpse fell to the ground.

* * *

Rhiihaaj barely dodged the oncoming sword from the small Dunmer in front of him. He was fighting Koth, second son of the Night Mother. He had a hard time keeping up with the small man's dual wielding and deadly pace, barely managing to block each attack. He leapt back, and felt a sudden pain in his knees. He looked down, and saw Koth's two shortswords imbedded into his kneecaps. He cried out in pain, and slumped to the ground, rolling out of the way as Koth's blades came down where his chest was just a second ago. He rolled again and again as Koth's blades came down rapidly, each time only barely missing their mark. Suddenly, he felt Koth's foot on his chest. He looked up, and just as Koth's swords were about to pierce his neck, he thrust his sword upward. The tip caught Koth in the chest, impaling him through the heart. The small Dunmer's eyes grew dim, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

* * *

Sehiiri fought, her arms growing tired as she twirled and spun through the battle with Sekethon, third son of the Night Mother. He was entirely unremarkable: about average Dunmer height and he had the usual white hair and black skin. Only one feature stood out about him: his eyes were pitch black. She felt a pain in her arms, and looked to either side. Each of her elbows had a blade sticking through them. She ducked to the side, and kicked Sekethon in the chest. She dodged his attacks jumping backwards through the chamber. Suddenly she felt the wall against her back; she was trapped! Sekethon slowly strode forward, a grin on his face. His arrogance would be the last mistake he ever made. Sehiiri jumped up, and using her neck to propel herself off the wall, cought Sekethon's head between her legs. As she fell to the ground, she snapped his neck.

* * *

Ka-Mala screamed in pain as she felt her arm snap. She ran from Doruth, fourth son of the Night Mother, launching blasts of lightning behind her. She found herself cornered against a wall, trapped. Doruth calmly walked over to her, and drew two small daggers. One he used to fasten her other arm to the wall, and with the other, he began to carve a path in Ka-Mala's abdomen. She screamed as the blade sliced into her flesh just under her ribcage and was drawn to along her ribs to the center of her belly. She screamed as Doruth slowly carved a path down her belly, tracing her abdominal muscles with his dagger. Suddenly, he ripped the dagger straight up, and she saw her intestines spill out onto the floor, a bloody, mangled heap. Doruth laughed as he pulled his dagger out of her arm. She slumped to the ground, faintly recalling a spell she had invented long ago. Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed Doluth's face. "Wha- What are you doing?!" he vried as he felt his life begin to ebb away.

"It… It's a spell I created long ago," Ka-Mala said, her breath coming in short gasps. Doruth screamed as he felt his insides being liquefied and pulled out of his body by Ka-Mala's hand, flowing into her body and healing her wounds, replacing her missing vital organs. He screamed as he felt his muscle and organs seep out through his face, and finally, his brain went. His eyes dimmed, and he slumped to the floor, his only remains a ragged sack of skin and bones.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer struggled to make pace with the tall, skeletal Dunmer she fought. He had no weapon, but every time she swung her blade, he pressed the flat of his hand into the flat of her sword, neutralizing its effectiveness. He was Solok, fifth and final son of the Night Mother. She backed up as he drove forward, unable to push him back despite his lack of weapons. He paused as they heard his last remaining brother scream in agony, and saw his withered hisk fall to the ground. Solok smiled, and began to speak, his voice terrible and ghostly. "You know," he said, a smile spread across his gaunt face, "I should thank you and your friends for killing my brothers. You see, I am a far better servant to Sithis than they ever were!" Soul-Swimmer grunted.

"Why's that?" she asked, mocking Solok, swinging song forward, only for him to catch the flat of the blade again.

"Because," he replied darkly, "I've died five times!" Soul-Swimmer gasped, and that was all Solok needed. He snapped her arm like a twig, turned Song around, and plunged it straight into her heart. She gasped, and coughed up blood. Suddenly, she felt something odd. Song liquefied, and flowed into her body. Her wounds healed, and she could feel the blade surging through her arm, mending the broken bones. She could feel the energy of the blade, could feel it healing her, helaing her to a point where she was healthier than when she was injured. The next thing she knew, her arm was extended, and Song was embedded in Solok's head. The undead Dunmer screamed, and his body crumbled into dust.

* * *

The Night Mother grinned evilly as she watched her sons die; she now had all the souls she needed to summon sithis. All that was required was the final sacrifice. She drew the sacrificial blade, and strode over to Dar-Ma and her family. Before they could ask, she cast a paralysis spell on them She raised the blade over her head, and just as she was about to bring it down on Dar-Ma, she felt an impact to her side. It was Seed-Neeus: the Argonian woman was enraged, a dagger in her belt, and she was beating the Night Mother mercilessly. "NOONE TOUCHES MY DAUGHTER!" she screamed, punching the night mother across the face. The Night Mother caught her arm, and pulled her to the ground. The two rolled, exchanging blows, until finally, the Night Mother plunged her dagger into Seed-Neeus' breast. The Argonian woman gasped, and Dar-Ma's eyes widened as the Night Mother's spell broke.

"MOTHER!" she screamed, sobbing. The Night Mother got up, wiping the blood from her face. She walked over to Dar-Ma, who was tightly held in Dra-Shek's arms. She brought the blade over her head.

"Lord Sithis!" she cried, her voice that of a zealot. "Accept this offering and join us! Join us, and take you rightful place as ruler of all Thamriel!" Suddenly, blood flew from the Night Mother's mouth. A dagger protruded from her chest, its tip coated in blood. She turned her head, and saw Seed-Neeus, blade in hand. She coughed up more blood as the Argonian storekeeper twisted the dagger brutally.

"Noone… no one touches… my daughter!" gasped Seed-Neeus, and the Night Mother fell. The chains on Dar-Ma and her family dissipated as the Night Mother died, and Seed-Neeus fell to the ground. Dar-Ma ran to her mother's side. She held her baby in one hand, and held her mother's head in the other. Her Seed-Neeus coughed, and Dar-Ma began to sob.

"Mother!" she cried. "Don't leave me!" Seed-Neeus looked up into her daughters eyes, smiling.

"Dar-Ma… let me see my grandson. Let me see him one last time." Dar-Ma nodded, and held her son to her mother's face. Seed-Neeus smiled as the baby came into her view, his bright red scales glinting in the torchlight. "Ah…" she said, smiling. "He's going to grow up strong, just like his parents. Dra-Shek?" She coughed, and Dar-Ma's husband crouched down next to his mother-in-law.

"Yes, what is it Seed-Neeus?" he asked, holding her hand in his.

"Take care of Dar-Ma for me." Seed-Neeus coughed violently, her eyes starting to glaze over. "I… I can feel it. I can feel Akatosh's fires in the heavens."

"No! Mother!" cried Dar-Ma, but there was nothing she could do.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," said Seed-Neeus. She coughed one last time, and her eyes rolled up into their sockets. Seed-Neeus had died.

* * *

Oh my. When I started writing this, I didn't expect Seed-Neeus to die! I really think I may have dug myself into a hole, though. I mean, I cut off Amori's hand! He's a swordsman, and also an _archer_! I'm not sure how I'm going to repair this one... Anyways, I would like to see who thinks that the next chapter should be the last one before I start writing the actual sequel to this story, and who thinks I should just continue this one. If there's a sequel, I could have a slight jump in time, if I continue, Delchkahn and Soul-Swimmer would have to keep fighting defore reaching any kind of stability! Basically the difference is either a tragic beginning to a sequel and a start to a new story arc, or an action-type blend into a new story arc. Please respond to this; it's important!

BTW, I have a poll up about this story in case anyone's interested...

My normal quote isn't up here. It went on strike because I didn't end with a cliffhanger.

-Baeowulf


	11. Sithis

Alright then, decision made: MORE IMMEDIATE VIOLENCE! *pant pant pant* So, last chapter: Night Mother defeated, Black Hand defeated, Seed-Neeus killed, Rhiihaaj crippled, Sehiiri crippled, Padfoot=vampire and fallen off of a cliff, Amori has one hand, and Ka-Mala was disemboweled, but has recovered since (that sounded wierd 0_0). Yes, I know the Black Hand fell pretty easily, and that it seemed like they would take a bit more killing, but they teach a moral: NEVER underestimate an enemy! When you fight, always think of your enemy as being stronger than yourself; that way if they are, you're prepared, if they're your equal, you just put yourself in a state of heightened reflexes and have the advantage, and if you're better than they are, then you have no chance of losing whatsoever. Anyways, this chapter is titled Sithis for a reason, try and guess before it's revealed! Also, I would like to thank Vine Sliver for reading and reviewing my story from the beginning. His support has been very helpful, and possibly vital, to the continuation of this plotline. Thank you VineSliver!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Delchkahn stared mutely at the stump where his hand used to be. Blood poured from the wound, dripping to the ground in a red puddle. The pain was excruciating beyond belief. Every nerve in his wrist cried out in agony, overloading his brain with pain signals. He watched in horror as the wound began to change color: first from red, then to green, and finally, to black. The color change began to creep along the veins in his arm, slowly spreading through his limb. The next few moments, everything was ablur of motion, color, and sound. He heard Dar-Ma scream, he heard Seed-Neeus call out, he saw a dark blur fall to the ground. He felt himself tumble to the ground, heard his body thud against the stone floor, as though he were a mile away. He saw Soul-Swimmer running over to him, casting her blade to the ground. He heard her crying, faint, and saw glistening tears in her eyes. He saw her kneel over him, and his vision went black.

* * *

"AMORI!" Soul-Swimmer cried as her lover's eyes closed. Already, his face and body was tinted black from the dark magic that was in Soloth's blade. His breathing was ragged, coming in rapid, short gasps, and his pulse was wild. She heard a faint hum behind her, and turned to see Song, its blade glowing brightly, a blue light emanating from the magical sword. It seemed like it was calling her, drawing her to it. She snatched Song from the ground, and was shocked at what she had done afterwards. She looked at her hands, and saw Song embedded in Amori's chest. She almost screamed, but she saw something odd happening: the black substance tinting Delchkahn's veins was flowing into Song, being drawn out of his body. The adge of the blade began to turn black, and with a pulse, the dark magic was expelled. Soul-Swimmer drew Song out of Delchkahn's body, and as the blade left his chest, the wound over his heart healed over. His breathing and pulse returned to normal, but something was wrong: he wasn't waking up. All of his wounds were healed over, and the dark magic was gone, but he wasn't waking up. Suddenly, Soul-Swimmer became awar of her surroundings. She looked around Morimath, and saw the Night Mother and her five sons lying dead on the stone floor, and near the Night Mother's body, a family of Argonians crouched over something. The mother was holding her child close to her, and was weeping bitterly, the father holding her in his arms. As they shifted, Soul-Swimmer saw what they had been crouched over, and gasped: it was Seed-Neeus' body. The Argonian woman had died to kill the Night Mother, and to save this family. Suddenly, Soul-Swimmer realized who the mother was: she was Dar-Ma, Seed-Neeus' daughter. Just as she was about to go over to them, however, she saw a furred form lying near where the pyramid used to be. It was Padfoot, who had fallen from the stone platform after killing Kazaka. Soul-Swimmer's heart nearly stopped: Padfoot had saved Amori's life. She ran over to the young Khajiit's side, and to her relief, found that she was still breathing. She pulled back Padfoot's eyelid, and saw that her irises were crimson. Slowly, Soul-Swimmer pulled back Padfoot's upper lip, and to her horror, saw the telltale elongated canines. There was no doubing it now: Padfoot was a vampire. Slowly, Soul-Swimmer backed away from the Khajiit vampire, not sure what she should do. But then she stopped, ashamed of herself: yes, the Khajiit girl was a vampire, but she had saved Amori's life. She looked down at the girl's pitiful form, her bones easily visible under her skin. Her fur was a dirty brown, so stained by the dust from the forced march she had had to endure that its original color was impossible to discern. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Ka-Mala leaning on her, looking like she was going to throw up. Soul-Swimmer helped her to a stable position. "What happened to you?" she asked Ka-Mala looked up at her.

"To be honest? I was disemboweled." Soul-Swimmer looked at her like she was crazy, and Ka-Mala began to explain. "I was fighting a member of the Black Hand, and he, quite literally, disemboweled me. Before I died, I used a spell that I had invented a while ago on him. I placed my hand over his face, liquefied his innards, drew them into my own body, and used their matter to reconstruct my missing organs and muscle." Ka-Mala chuckled; she could have sworn she saw Soul-Swimmer turning green. Suddenly, Soul-Swimmer got an idea.

"Do you think you can use that spell to transfer matter from a corpse to another person?" Ka-Mala shrugged.

"I don't see why not," she said. Soul-Swimmer dragged Soluth's corpse to the Khajiit girl's side, and Ka-Mala began the spell. Soluth's corpse withered to a husk, and the Khajiit's body filled out, her muscles reforming, returning her body to the state it had been in before she had been starved. As her body fleshed out, Soul-Swimmer saw just how debilitating starvation could be: when she had first seen the girl, she was a ragged husk. Now, she was a beautiful young woman. The girl's eyes slid open, and she groaned.

"Hey," said Soul-Swimmer softly. "What's your name?"

"P…Padfoot," the girl replied. Soul-Swimmer was relieved that she was okay. She was grateful that Padfoot had saved Amori… Amori! Soul-Swimmer got up, and ran to her lover's side. He was still unconscious, and it was obvious it was going to take a lot to wake him up.

* * *

The group sat sadly outside the entrance to Miscarcand. Because of the Black Hand's enchanted blades, Ka-Mala couldn't heal the wounds of the others. Rhiihaaj supported himself on crutches, while Sehiiri barely had use of her arms. Amori lay unconscious on a bedroll, and Dar-Ma sat sullenly next to her mother's body. Padfoot stared into a small puddle in the moonlight, staring at her reflection, wondering if she would ever be able to return to the world of sunlight. Soul-Swimmer paced anxiously, and Ka-Mala was shocked that for the first time in a long time, she could do nothing to help. She thought back to the time that she had been invited into the Mages Guild, and how she had accepted the invitation. She also remembered the day she had been expelled. She thought about the invention of the spell that had gotten her expelled from the Guild, the one that she had used on Doruth in Miscarcand. The spell had been deemed Necromantic, and Archmage Traven had ordered her to be put to death. She panicked, and used the spell on an Initiate. After seeing its effects, the Imperial Council backed Traven. She remembered wating in the dank cell, only 18, not ready to pass into the void. She remembered the now deceased Mr. Lachance infiltrating her cell and inviting her to join the Brotherhood. He had freed her from the Imperial Prison, and by sheer luck, she had been stationed in the Anvil sanctuary, saving her from the Cleansing. Anvil… So many friends were there, a good deal of Guild Members who had disagreed with Traven's sentence on the grounds that the creation of the spell had been accidental. Suddenly, her eyes widened: the Anvil Mage's Guild specialized in restoration! She got up, and ran to Soul-Swimmer. The rest of the group stared at her in confusion. "Soul-Swimmer!" she said excitedly. "I know somewhere where someone might be able to help Amori and the others!" At this, Soul-Swimmer, Rhiihaaj, and Sehiiri all turned towards her. "I'm a former Mage's Guild member, and I was stationed in Anvil. Anvil mages specialize in restoration! If anyone can counteract the effects of the Black Hand's swords, they can!" Rhiihaaj pulled himself onto his feet with his crutches.

"I'm glad that you have a solution," he said, sounding skeptical, "but how are we supposed to get to the coast with one unconscious person, a dead person, an infant, and a vampire? I don't mean to sound insensitive, but those unable to travel on their own will slow us down, and Padfoot prevents us from travelling during the night." The group looked disheartened, and Ka-Mala fiddled with her hands nervously.

"I… I still have access to the Guild teleportation network. I've been banned from its use, but I can still access it."

"Then what are you waiting for?!" Soul-Swimmer demanded, angry that Ka-Mala would endanger her wounded friends for the sake of a rule. "Use the network!" Ka-Mala shrank before her, her timid complexion returning.

"Well, you see, I'm more than just 'on probation'." She paused, preparing herself for sharing the news. "I've been sentenced to death."

* * *

Amori floated in a black void, stars twinkling in the distance. All he wore was a pair of white shorts, and in his hand, he clutched FrostFire. He marveled at the vastness of the Cosmos: the entire world of Nirn was tiny by comparison. He saw comets fly past, and in the distance, saw ancient suns explode into nothingness. He saw entire Realms forming in clouds of blue or purple mist, only to dissolve once more into the darkness. He turned around, and saw a dark figure striding toward him, waliking on a trail of stardust. It wore dark robes, and its body was made of shadow. "_I see you're enjoying my realm, then,"_ it whispered, its ethereal voice sending shivers down his spine. In horror, Delchkahn realized that he was talking to Sithis, lord of Chaos and Death, ruler of the Night.

"Am… Am I dead?" he asked, terrified at the possibility that he could have found all he could have wanted only to have it snatched away by the black veil of Sithis. Sithis laughed, his laughter a cascade of stones tumbling down a well, of chimes ringing in the wind, and of a breeze rustling through a field of grass, all rolled into one. It was a beautiful and terrible sound.

"_No, Delchkahn Amori, you are not dead," _he said, his voice seeming to pierce Amori's very soul. _"You could call this a dream, but it is far more than that. You have traveled to my Realm, the Ǽther, in a spiritual form. Your body lies sleeping back in the mortal realm of Lorkhan, named Thamriel by you mortals._" Sithis chuckled to himself. _"I have to remember to stop calling it Lorkhan… when the mortals defeated Dagon, the realm truly became Thamriel. As I was saying, this is your spiritual self; if you want proof, look at your left wrist." _Amori slowly shifted his gaze to his left wrist, and was amazed when he saw that his hand was still there. He turned it from side to side in amazement, and watched as a shield appeared in the space next to him. The space in which he and Sithis were standing shifted into the Pyramid of Morimath, and the stairs and floor fell away, leaving a pillar that stretched down forever. Sithis just stood there, what seemed to be a smile tugging his dark face. He drew two swords from the depths of his robes. Amori backed away, and nearly fell off the edge of the cliff. He slowly drew FrostFire, and picked up the shield.

"What do you want?" he asked. Sithis laughed again, his voice echoing in the void.

"_I know what you want, Amori. You want to return to the mortal world, to your friends. I'll tell you this: Seed-Neeus died to kill the Night Mother, and both Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri were grievously wounded. Your lover nearly died at the hands of my son Solok. Now, Ka-Mala is contemplating risking her life to take your friends to the Anvil Mages Guild."_ Sithis paused, assuming a combat stance. _"Kazaka warned you, and I will tell you this: They are coming, and the only way you can return to the mortal world is to defeat me in combat. Well, then, my young student, shall we dance?_" Amori readied himself, and charged the ancient god of Death, and the progenitor of the Realms.

* * *

Yes, I did just have Amori begin training with Sithis. Yes, Sithis is supposed to be scary. Yes, Sithis is slightly insane, yet completely sane at the same time. Yes, he is both frightening and comforting. This is how I percieve the god of Chaos. I say that Chaotic (I'm going to continue capitalizing that word, by the way. Chaos!) entities should contradict themselves, and yet have somewhat of a higher knowledge than mere mortals. Sithis is the father of time and all the realms (one of the many stories about him states that the universe/multiverse was born from his world), and I am going to have a lot of fun with him! Thanks for reading this chapter, and try to guess what's going to happen next! What will? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

The quote is back!

-Baeowulf


	12. Forgiveness

Hello again! I'm really on a roll, I've been writing a lot very fast! Anyways, another chapter might be up by tomorrow, I certainly hope there will, at least! I hope you're enjoying ADPBF, and if you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it! Thanks!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Delchkahn felt Sithis' cold blade pierce his chest, slicing through his heart and severing his spinal cord. He fell to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth. The hall of Morimath faded away, along with his wounds. That had been the fifth time already he had lost to Sithis, and he was beginning to get irritated. Sithis walked over to him, obviously angry. _"You fool! How are you supposed to defeat Them if you cannot even land a single strike on me?!" _His voice bellowed in the cold air like a thunderstorm, crashes of brass cymbals on his consonants. Amori stood, and walked over to Sithis, his purple features tinted red.

"How am I supposed to his you if half of the time, I can't even SEE you?" he demanded angrily, his face an inch away from Sithis'. "You've been 'training' me for the past… Akatosh knows how long! How am I supposed to be confident in training to fight 'Them' when I don't even know who 'They' are?!" As fast as a strike of lightning, Sithis struck Amori in the gut and kneed him under the chin. Before Delchkahn even knew what was happening, he felt Sithis' cold blade up against his throat. The dark god was standing above him, scowling.

"_If I were one of Them, you'd be dead now,"_ he said sternly, anger apparent in his white eyes. "_I can understand why you don't trust me, Amori: you left my Brotherhood, killed my Black Hand, assisted others in evading the Brotherhood, and finally, killed my bride and sons, in the process, thwarting my visit to Thamriel. I cannot tell you that I am not angry with you; I am FURIOUS! But, nevertheless, you are Thamriel's greatest, and possibly only, hope in repelling Them! Think, Amori, think! You repelled Dagon himself! Now fight me, and WIN THIS TIME!" _Sithis backed up, and Morimath reappeared. Amori got up, readied his blade, and charged the dark god for the sixth time.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer nearly jumped out of her skin as Amori's body jerked suddenly, his back arching about a foot off the ground. His breathing and heart rate quickened, stopped, and returned to normal, all within the span of a few seconds. She sighed, lowering her head into her palms. That was the fifth time that had happened in the past hour, and each time, it seemed to be getting worse. "Ka-Mala had better make up her mind soon," she muttered to herself: Amori wasn'r going to last comatose without restoration much longer. She could understand Ka-Mala's hesitation: when the Archmage Traven signed a death warrant, he usually made sure that it was fulfilled, whether it was a week, a month, or even a year after the event. Still, she couldn't help but be angry at Ka-Mala; Amori was in danger, and she was, for now, doing nothing. Suddenly, she heard a loud noise, almost like a Deadric Gate opening. She drew Song as she was getting up, only to see Ka-Mala standing before a glowing, blue portal. She looked nervous, and even from the distance she was at, Soul-Swimmer could see beads of sweat on her neck and forehead. She walked over to the group nervously; most of them were asleep. "Ahem…" she coughed, and the other members of the ragged band groaned and crawled out of bed. "Y-y-you should g-get ready to g-go," she stuttered, wringing her tail in her hands. "I-I've opened a portal t-to the Anvil Mages…" She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. "To the Anvil Mages Guild." The group members stood: Rhiihaaj on his crutches, Sehiiri close behind him; Soul-Swimmer carrying Amori's limp form with the help of Padfoot; Dar-Ma and Dra-Shek carrying Seed-Neeus' body on a length of wood Dra-Shek had cut to use as a makeshift stretcher. One by one, they filed into the portal, Ka-Mala, limp tail in hands, coming through last.

* * *

Carahil crouched over her table, examining the bubbling ingredients carefully. She had extract of Ambrosia in the alembic, the water being steamed out of it to produce a fine powder. She had a slice of Deadra Heart in her crucible, and was steadily cooking it, while a slab of boar jerky rested on the table next to her. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a Gate being opened. She turned around, and saw a group of what seemed to be armed refugees stumble through, followed by someone she had never expected to see again: Ka-Mala, the convicted Necromancer. Almost immediately, Carahil was at her throat, a ball of lightning in her hand pressed against the underside of Ka-Mala's chin. Ka-Mala squeeked timidly, trembling stiffly. "H-h-hello, C-carahil," she said nervously, not daring to budge for fear of a deadly shock. Carahil snarled: how DARE this _necromancer_ and convicted murderer set foot in _her_ guildhouse?!

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her face a mask of rage. "You think that I'm going to let you live after what you did to Rikel?!" Carahil shuddered, remembering the use of the forbidden spell Ka-Mala had created: all that was left was a sack of skin and bones, all muscle and internal organs liquefied and sucked out. Ka-Mala whimpered, small tears budding in her eyes as Carahil pressed the electric ball closer to her neck. She felt the pinpricks of pain as the outer sparks brushed her skin. Suddenly, Carahil stopped. Soul-Swimmer was behind her, the tip of Song pressed against the back of her neck.

"Put my friend down," she demanded, pressing Song into Carahil's flesh a little harder. "_Now_." Carahil spat at Ka-Mala, and retracted her hand, allowing Ka-Mala to settle back onto her feet. She took a shaky breath, and leaned on Soul-Swimmer's shoulder. Carahil, not a patient person when Necromancers were nearby, interrupted rudely.

"Excuse me, but what do you people want?" she asked, looking over the group skeptically. She saw two crippled Khajiit, what seemed to be a teenage Khajiit vampire, and a family of Argonians standing over a corpse. Soul-Swimmer stepped aside, and Carahil gasped: Delchkahn Amori, known savior of Thamriel, lay asleep on the table.

"We came because we need your help," said Soul-Swimmer bluntly. Carahil looked the group over once again, and realized that the Argonian with the baby was Dar-Ma, and the corpse on the stretcher was Seed-Neeus. She saw Amori's missing hands, and the blackened puncture wounds in the crippled Khajiits' limbs. "My friend risked her life to bring us here. She told us that Traven had ordered her killed, and she brought us here anyways. Tell me: does that sound like a necromancer to you?" Carahil paused to think; Ka-Mala had actively gone out of her way to help these people; no necromancer would do that. Obviously, something more was going on here. She sighed, realizing that although she hated Ka-Mala, she had to help these people.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Amori brought his shield up to block Sithis' vicious attacks. The Dark Lord's swords slashed against his shield with abandon, carving large Xs into its surface. Finaly, the shield shattered into four pieces. Amori jumped back, sword readied. He dodged nimbly under Sithis' strikes, dashing in between the two blades. He lunged forward, FrostFire leading, blue flames trailing from its blade. Sithis neatly sidestepped, and brought his blades down. Amori rolled over mid dash, pushing Sithis' blades back with FrostFire, and then up and wide as he leaped into a forward flip. Sithis smirked: Amori was getting good. Delchkahn hit the ground running, and rammed Sithis in the chest, knocking him back a few feet. Sithis did a backflip… and fell over the ledge. Amori lowered his sword, confused. Had it really ended that easily? Was that really how he had won? He cautiously walked to the ledge, not noticing the gloved fingers gripping it. As he peered over the edge, Sithis launched himself into the air, blades crossed, their edges pointing upwards in position to decapitate Amori. Delchakhn hastily stepped backwards, and Sithis came down with a relentless flurry of blade strikes. He pushed Amori back with each strike, and eventually, Delchkahn struggled to keep his balance at the ledge. Finally, Sithis disarmed him, and pushed him over.

* * *

Carahil watched in concern: Amori's body was jumping and jerking regardless of the leather belts she had used to secure him to the stone table. His muscles were tense, easily showing beneath his skin. His fists were clenched, and his spine arched and slammed back into the table in succession. Finally, the violent jerking subsided, and Delchkahn's breathing returned to normal. Carahil shook her head; this behavior was all too familiar. It was just like Henantier when he was trapped in the Dreamworld. That first dangerous experiment was a little secret she shared with him and Kud-Ei, his Argonian "friend". Recently, he had perfected the science of Dreamworld travel, and had been using it to train. On one of these expeditions, he had seen a vision of Bravil, utterly destroyed. He had urged for the evacuation of the city, but the Count hadn't listened. Eventually, he had just come to Anvil with Kud-Ei. Carahil shuddered; just a day after he had left, Bravil had been destroyed by the Night Mother's army of undead. She shook her head again, not knowing exactly what could be done to help Amori. "I've come to a conclusion, but it's not one you'll like," Carahil said to Soul-Swimmer, like a doctor about to deliver bad news. Soul-Swimmer looked concerned.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly. Carahil shook her head.

"Delchkahn Amori seems to be in a state similar to that which Henantier was in when he first experimented with the Dreamworld Amulet. He became trapped in his own subconscious, and needed Amori's help to escape. Honestly, he's probably the only one who knows about this condition." Carahil took a few deep breaths; this was the most excitement she'd seen in a while. "I'll get him and Kud-Ei." Carahil left the room, and a few moments later, an Altmer male and Argonian female entered the room, hand in hand. Rhiihaaj, with newly healed legs, raised an eyebrow as he saw the matching silver rings they were wearing, but he said nothing. Carahil followed them into the room, and began introductions. "Soul-Swimmer, Rhiihaaj, Sehiiri, Dar-Ma, Dra-Shek, Padfoot…" Carahil rolled her eyes, "_Ka-Mala_, this is Henantier, and this is Kud-Ei," she said, pointing to each person as she said their name. "Henantier, Kud-Ei, I don't think you'll need to be introduced to your patient." Carahil led them to the stone tablet, and Henantier's eyes widened as he saw who he would be working on: Amori.

"Delchkahn Amori…" he whispered under his breath. Just last year, Amori had freed him from his own Dreamworld. He was about to place the Dreamworld Amulet around his neck, when Kud-Ei stopped him.

"Hen…" she said, using her nickname for him, "remember the violent thrashing he's been undergoing. I can't imagine what's going on in there; even when you were trapped in your Dreamworld you were somewhat calm." She gazed at him imploringly, and for a while, he just gazed back into her eyes. He turned away, his face grim.

"Kud-Ei… I have to go in," he said, struggling to find his words. "Amori… Amori saved me from my Dreamworld, and it's time I repaid him." He turned back to Kud-Ei, and saw that she had tears in her eyes.

"I… I understand," she replied half-heartedly. "Just be careful, okay?" Henantier nodded, and gently kissed Kud-Ei's forehead. He laid a bedroll on the floor, put on the Dreamworld Amulet, and went to sleep.

* * *

Delchkahn clung to the ledge with all his strength, his fingers barely maintaining their grip. He knew he was in a bad position: on one end, there was an endless drop, and on the other, was Sithis. It didn't help that he had dropped FrostFire when he fell. He heard footsteps slowly padding over to the ledge, and closed his eyes, waiting for the drop. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head, one tht sounded faintly familiar. "_Amori… what are you doing?"_ it asked, and Delchkahn realized in shock who it was.

"O-o-ocheeva?" he whispered, surprised. She appeared next to him, floating in mid-air, leanig casually against the pillar. She wore a white toga, and her skin was deathly pale.

"_Yes, love. It's me." _Tears began to bud in Amori's eyes; all of the guilt from her death came flooding back into his mind in a single rush

"Ocheeva… I'm so sorry…" Ocheeva put a finger to his lips, and smiled at him knowilngly.

"_I know, my love. I know. I was a ghost after I died, at least until you did something. I was a ghost until you built me a tomb. You built a grave for me, and you put my spirit to rest. I know you feel guilty about my death, and I know that you can never forgive yourself. My love, Amori, I don't ask you to forgive yourself, I only ask you to accept forgiveness from me._" She placed a kiss on Amori's lips, and the two lingered there for a moment, but eventually, Ocheeva faded away, her spirit journeying back to the realm of Akatosh. Amori smiled, and looked up. He saw the edges of Sithis' boots, and grinned. He had Ocheeva's forgiveness; there was nothing he couldn't do. At the last second, he launched himself up from the ledge, punching Sithis in the jaw. Ha landed, and drove the Dark Lord back with a flurry of kicks and punches, all the while dodging his foe's blade strikes. He saw FrostFire lying on the ground, and used his foot to draw the blade over to him. He picked it up, and unleashed its power. His eyes glowed with blue flames, the FrostFire leaving trails of steam and fire in the air behind it. Sithis was on the defensive, struggling to parry all of Amori's attacks. Eventually, he slipped. Delchkahn seized the opportunity, and tripped Sithis, landing him flat on his back. At the precise second Sithis hit the ground, Amori drove FrostFire through his chest. Sithis' eyes grew wide, and glazed over as his body began to dissolve in wisps of smoke. Amori had defeated Death.

* * *

Henantier watched in awe; this was not Amori's Dreamworld. He was in an incorporeal state, floating above the platform that Sithis and Amori battled on. He watched in awe as he saw their blades clash, and nearly cried out for his friend as he saw Amori's shield shatter, Amori drop his blade, and go over the edge. Then, he saw Amori clinging to the edge of the platform, and what he saw next, he couldn't explain: he saw a ghost of a young Argonian woman. She came and spoke to Amori for a while, and with a kiss, she was gone. Delchkahn seemed to be revitalized by her visit, and Henantir watched, dumbfounded, as he launched himself over the edge of the platform. He saw Amori knock Sithis back, retrieve his sword, and finally slay the Dark Lord. Henantier had witnessed the death of Death.

* * *

Henantier sat bolt upright, panting heavily. Kud-Ei rushed over to him,a wet cloth in her hand. She patted the cloth on his forehead, cooling his fevered brow. His eyes were wide, and his pupils dilated. "That… that was incredible!" he panted, seemingly to himself.

"What? What was it?" asked Kud-Ei, concerned for her fiancé's well being. He had proposed to her just the night before last, and things were going well. She didn't want to risk that.

"Amori… was in Ǽther… the realm of Sithis! But this wasn't a dream, it was real! Sithis was really there, and Delchkahn was visited by a ghost, even! In the end… Amori defeated Sithis!" Suddenly, Amori's body began thrashing violently under the leather belts restraining him. He writhed wildly, his fist clenching and unclenching. Finally, his eyes snapped open, and he yelled, long and triumphant. Soul-Swimmer ran to his side, concerned.

"Delchkahn!" she cried, worry in her eyes. "Are you alright?" She noticed small tears in his eyes, but she also saw that he was smiling.

"I'm fine, Soul-Swimmer," he said calmly. "In fact, I'm better than ever. Ocheeva visited me, and she forgave me. Finally, I can find true peace." Suddenly, his face grew grim. Soul-Swimmer unbuckled him, and he sat up. Slowly, he looked over everyone in the room: there was Carahil, Ka-Mala (who for some reason, was wearing drain-magicka manacles), Soul-Swimmer, Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri, now healed, a pale Khajiit girl who looked vaguely vampiric, and to his great surprise, Henantier and Kud-Ei. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed their matching rings, but said nothing. Addressing everyone in the room, he spoke. "An enemy unlike any we've ever faced is on Their way here," he said, his eyes dark. "They are coming."

* * *

Okay, one question: do I use too many cliffhangers? I think cliffhangers are cool, but I acknowledge that they could possibly get slightly irritating after a while. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Little reunion between Amori and Ocheeva; now Amori can finally be at peace with her death, because he knows she's in a better place. BTW, I have it so that the dead don't actually live in Ǽther, but the ones who can travel use it as a crossroads between realms. So, basically Ocheeva now resides in Akatosh's heaven. Yeah, she's an assassin, but I thought she was nice, so there. Anyways, I will award anybody (somehow) who can guess who the mysterious They are! Try and think about it, They are a part of Elder Scrolls! Anyways, this chapter is finished, so until the next, I say adieu!

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	13. Aftermath

Hey everyone!

Sorry about the long gap in updates, I've been busy with school.

Anyways, here's the latest chapter! Enjoy!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Ka-Durash sat slumped against the railing of the Akaviri ship; he was a member of the Ka-Po Tun, a race of tiger-men living on the Akaviri isles. He was whittling a wooden sculpture of a dragon, carefully carving out the details with his long, slender claws. He was disgusted with his race; they had actually joined with the Tseasci! While he had no quarrel with the Tang Mo or the Kamal, but his people had an ancient war with the Tseasci, and he hated to be working alongside them, much less under the command of one of them. Suddenly, a black mist appeared in the center of the deck, the crew turning in wonder at the swirling vortex. Eventually, the mist coalesced into a form they knew all too well: Kazaka, crown prince of the Tseasci, and leader of their expedition. But something had changed about the golden-scaled Akavir: his eyes were pure black. He looked up, and grinned at the crew.

"Do I have a sstory to tell you!"

* * *

Delchkahn lay on the bed sullenly, staring at the stump where his wrist once was. How could he fight Them, whoever They were, with only one hand? He was in real trouble now, and he was frustrated because he knew no way to get out of it. He ran iver the events of the past few days in his mind. He had been defeated by Kazaka, but saved by a Khajiit girl named Padfoot, who was now a vampire. He had lost his hand fighting the Listener of the Night Mother's Black Hand, and Seed-Neeus… His eyes drooped as he thought of how Seed-Neeus had died. He wondered how Dar-Ma had been doing; as far as he knew, her father had died when she was young, leaving Seed-Neeus to care for their child alone. Seed-Neeus had been the only blood-family she had, and now she was gone. Amori cursed himself; he should have been able to stop this! For all his life, people had been dying around him! His parents, that guard in the Oblivion gate, countless Imperial soldiers, and now Seed-Neeus! So many had died because of him, and he began to wonder if he really deserved to live. No, he thought; he needed to go on. He reminded himself of all the lives he'd saved, and although it was little consolation to the dewath of friends, it did help some. He heard the door open, and looked up. Soul-Swimmer walked into the room, her eyes worried. Shortly after he had woken, Amori had passed out, and had been asleep for the past couple days. He had just recently woken up, and Soul-Swimmer was very worried about him. "What's up?" Delchkahn asked glumly, his bad mood hanging over his head like a dark cloud.

"Seed-Neeus' funeral is today," said Soul-Swimmer, taking a seat on the side of his bed. "I thought you would want to know." Amori nodded, and to Soul-Swimmer's surprise, started to push himself up from the bed. He grunted in agony at the strain, and Soul-Swimmer gently lowered him back down to the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked, concerned for his safety.

"I'm going to my friend's funeral," he replied, and started to try to rise again, but Soul-Swimmer held him down.

"Delchakhn… you need to rest," she said, tears beginning to bud in her eyes. "Please, I don't want to lose you…" She closed her eyes, and lowered her head. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see a smiling Amori looking up at her.

"I know, Soul-Swimmer, but I have to go to her funeral." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. Now, are you going to help me up, or are you going to let me do it myself? Because you sure as hell aren't stopping me." Soul-Swimmer sighed, and kissed Delchkahn, lightly at first, but growing into a deep and passionate exchange. Eventually, she pulled out of the kiss, and helped her lover to his feet.

* * *

The funeral was a sad procession; rows of mourners dressed in black robes, with four leading the procession carrying the body of Seed-Neeus on a stretcher. She looked so peaceful in death; her eyes were closed, and a slight smile was on her lips. Dar-Ma stood to the side, huddling in the arms of Dra-Shek, mourning for her lost mother. Amori sighed; so many people had died. So many pointless deaths were on his hands; countless innocents had died because of his actions. It only hurt more now that a friend – no, a family member, as far as he was concerned – had joined the ranks of the dead. He watched as the mourners lowered Seed-Neeus first into the ornate, wooden coffin, and then into the neatly dug grave, and as they handed Dar-Ma the shovel, giving her the honor of burying the body of the departed, as was tradition. Dar-Ma took the shovel, and with a sigh of depression, buried her mother.

* * *

Delchakhn sat on the side of his bed staring out the window at the sunset, hunched over, his left arm resting on his knees. A full two months had passed since he had lost his hand, and he was beginning to wonder about the cryptic messages left top him by Kazaka and Sithis. Exactly who were "They"? Where did "They" come from? And how in Akatosh's name was he supposed to fight them with only one bloody hand? He sighed, rubbing his temple. It had been so long since he could use a bow. FrostBite rested in the corner, dust already gathering on the mythical bow's frame, an air of depression hanging around the once glorious weapon. Neglect had taken its toll on the bow; magic weapons are created with the energy of a soul, and eventually, these items began to take on a "personality" of their own. FrostBite seemed sad, its once-intricate designs fading into the beautifully crafted weapon, its colors dulling with time. Delchkahn heard a rustling behind him. He turned, and smiled; Soul-Swimmer was lying in the bed, asleep, smiling. His eyes softened; she was everything to him. He swore that day, that bright, glorious morning, that nothing would ever happen to her. Little did he know, he would be hard-pressed to keep his oath.

* * *

Padfoot climbed out of bed, yawning, her maw stretching wide, revealing her perfect, glistening fangs. Her blood-red eyes flicked open, glowing slightly in the gloom. She was in the basement of the Anvil Mages Guild. The basement had become her room during the day; vampires didn't do well with the sun. Padfoot rubbed her head, massaging her temples. The nightmares were getting worse. Terrible visions of horror plagued her dreams when she slept, and when she woke, the awful, yet somehow sweet stench of blood filled her nostrils. She was always hungry, always thirsty. Food and water did nothing to satiate her, and she feared what she might become. As the weeks had passed, she saw herself growing paler and paler, and noticed her hair beginning to turn from its warm mahogany color to a pitch black: the black of night. Her eyes hurt in the light, and she both feared and longed for the sun. She remembered how just a week ago, she had become so desperate for the warmth and beaty of the sunrise that she had run outside to see it. As the red rays pierced the clouds, she had tried to turn and run in horror as her flesh began to burn. She had felt the scprching rays of the sun pierce and incinerate her flesh, the very thing that she had loved most had almost destroyed her. A tear came to her eye at the memory; if there was one thing she missed the most, it was the sun. Padfoot missed its brilliant rays, the bright color it brought to the world, the feeling of its gentle warmth washing over her body. Padfoot walked over to the mirror that she kept in the basement, gazing into its depths in the gloom. She looked wretched: her stomach caved in along her skeleton, her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes sunken. Gone was the vibrant beauty she had once possessed, replaced by a haunting shadow of who she once was. Her true self was a memory; her appearance had withered when she had stopped eating or drinking, but her soul had broken when she was forced to live in the darkness. Padfoot stared up at the ceiling, tears running freely down her cheeks. "Why?" she whispered softly, staring into the gloom. "Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?" Padfoot fell onto her bed, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Ka-Mala sat on the edge of a wooden bench, wringing her tail nervously in her hands. She had been accepted, for the most part, by the other mages, but the rumors of her being a necromancer still plagued her reputation. Multiple times she had been attacked by murderers and assassins, many belonging to the Morag-Tong, and some, even worse, to the Dark Brotherhood. So far she had managed to repel them, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before they got her. That wasn't what bothered her. What upset Ka-Mala was that the Brotherhood was still active, even after their blatant defeat at the hands of their former leader, and after Seed-Neeus' valiant sacrifice in giving her life to end the Night Mother. The assassins guild was still active, and this worried Ka-Mala. She knew how they worked, and she knew what this meant. It meant that the Night Mother was still around, maybe as a ghost, but active nonetheless, and all the stronger because of the new youth her resurrection had given her. The Night Mother was still a beacon for murderes and thugs everywhere, still a guiding light for the lower minds, the people dedicated to evil. Ka-Mala held her head in her hands, depressed. All they had done was for nothing. The Night Mother was still active, and if anything she knew about spiritual links and mistycism was accurate, the spirits of her sons were active as well. Ka-Mala looked around her room. When the attacks had started, she had spiraled into depression. Empty bottles of wine littered the floor, some broken, some not. A few bloodied blades rested on her nightstand. Those small knives were covered in Ka-Mala's own blood. Ka-Mala looked down at the scars on her wrists from the many times she had cut herself, staring at the ugly, black lines that stretched over her skin. She got up from her bed, and walked slowly to her closet, clutching her forehead in pain. "Ugh, I've got to lay off the Surilie Brothers' vintage wine, that stuff is killing me," she grumbled to herself, smiling melancholily as she finished her sentence. "Not that that would be a bad thing," she muttered. Ka-Mala pulled on some clothes, not caring how they matched or what color they wore. In the end, she wound up wearing a green shirt and a pair of brown trousers. She began to think of how unfair the world was: two months had passed since the defeat of the Night Mother, and what had come of it? Seed-Neeus had died, no one could change that. Delchkahn made it out with only one hand, and visions of something terrible in the future. Padfoot was slowly going insane below the mages guild. And Ka-Mala herself? Ka-Mala was left a depressed alcoholic, lost in the knowledge that even after all they had done, the Dark Brotherehood had survived, and was beginning to thrive once more. Ka-Mala grunted; Amori had saved them all, and yet _he_ was the one who had lost… his hand. Ka-Mala's eyes brightened, suddenly becoming alert. She ran to her workbench, brushing aside the empty bottles and scribbled suicide notes. She grabbed a parchment, and began drawing crazily across the paper, lines forming quickly from her quill. Eventually an intricate mechanical sketch appeared on the paper. It was something outlandish, yet very familiar. Ka-Mala had drawn a mechanical hand.

* * *

Rhiihaaj crouched in the underbrush, waiting for his target. It didn't take long before the caravan of slavers appeared over the crest of the hill. He scowled; more scum kidnapping innocent Khajiit and Argonian youthsto be sold into slavery in Morrowind, likely to work in ebony mines or who-knows what else. He smiled; that would end today. Rhiihaaj crouched lower in the bushes, his blade ready. The lead cart of the caravan trundled past him. He could see the Dunmer slavers riding in the cart, with their "cargo" being forced to walk behind the ox-drawn wagons. The poor slaves were starved and dirty, and had rusty manacles clamped about their wrists and ankles, linking them together on a long chain. Rhiihaaj waited for the last wagon to pass, and he slowly and quietly crept out from hiding. He jumped up onto the back of the covered wagon, his black mask drawn tight around his face. The Dunmer never knew what hit them. Rhiihaaj darted through the wagon like a shadow of death, killing all he came across. The first guard died before knowing that Rhiihaaj even existed, and another two were felled while trying to find who had assassinated their friend. Rhiihaaj had pulled out his other sword, and in a single stroke, decapitated both. Their heads rolled across the wooden floor of the spacious wagon, coming to rest by an ornate door. Almost immediately, a tall, muscular Dunmer slammed the door open, his tightly muscled arms flexed. He drew an ebony claymore from the scabbard on his back, and charged Rhiihaaj. Rhiihaaj waited, and at the last second, flipped backwards, dodging a downwards slice from his assailant. The man's claymore shattered through the bottom of the wagon, scraping the road. Rhiihaaj leaped onto the Dunmer's back, and before he could say a word, plunged both of his blades into his back. The Dunmer's eyes widened, and Rhiihaaj leaped off the corpse as it tumbled through the jagged hole in the wagon floor, bouncing down the hill behind the wagon. Suddenly, the line of wagons lurched to a halt. Rhiihaaj cursed; he had hoped to maintain stealth a little longer. He heard shouts from up the line, and he hid behind a crate. A group of four Dunmer jumped up into the wagon, their bodies encased in ebony armor. "Good lord, what happened here?" one said as he passed Rhiihaaj's hiding place and saw the hole in the floor. Rhiihaaj smiled; the entire group had their backs to him now! He crept out of hiding, and answered the Dunmer's question by slitting his throat.

"I did," he said plainly. The other three Dunmer charged at him, and he heard a fourth climbing up behind him. _Wait for it… wait for it…_ he thought to himself. _Now!_Rhiihaaj jumped into the air, and the three charging him skewered the fourth who had snuck up behind him, unable to stop their own momentum. Rhiihaaj ran forward… and knocked the three off of the wagon. He slapped the oxes pulling the wagon, yanking on their reigns, and the animals began to move forward. The last things the three Dunmer ever saw were the wheels of the wagon bearing down on their skulls. Rhiihaaj stopped the beasts, and jumped out the front of the wagon, sailing over the heads of quite a few surprised slaves. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said as he landed lightly on his feet, right in the middle of the line of slaves. Rhiihaaj brought his swords down hard on the chains that bound them together, snapping the steel chains like twigs. "Please exit the area in a timely fashion. Do not rush or stampede; I've seen people killed by being trampled. You're free now, but the Dunmer are still here. I'll eliminate them; you GO!" The slaves didn't need a reminder. As one they turned and ran, fleeing into the forest on either side of the hill. Rhiihaaj turned around… just in time to block an attack from a rather large Orc. _Orcs?!_ He thought to himself, shocked at the appearance of the green man. Things wee definitely not going well; the Orc had a heavy warhammer, and was bringing it home on Rhiihaaj wth blinding speed. Rhiihaaj was beginning to grow tired as he blocked blow after blow, the vibrations shuddering through his arms. Suddenly, he felt a piercing pain in his leg. He fell to his knees, and saw a black-shafted arrow piercing the back of his knee. He turned, and saw a group of Dunmer, the one in the lead wielding an ebony longbow. The man had blazing red hair, and one of his eyes had a long scar running across it.

"Heh! Look at this, boys! Looks like a mangy Khajiit wants to play!" The Dunmer laughed, a cruel, evil sound. He lowered his bow, and pulled out a longsword from a scabbard on his back. As he finished unsheathing the blade, it caught fire. Rhiihaaj stared in disbelief, and grunted in pain as the ORc kicked him in the gut. Suddenly, arrows started to fly out from the woods. The first pierced through the Orc's skull, sending his blood spattering over Rhiihaaj's prone form. The arrows sped to their targets, claiming the lives of all but one: the fiery haired Dunmer. The man scowled, and spat at Rhiihaaj before turning and running. Rhiihaaj pulled himself weakly to a standing position, and grimaced as he saw who his benefactor was: Seehiiri strode out from the brush, holding her bow confidently.

"Seehiiri, I appreciate the help, But you really should be staying out of trouble!" he said worriedly. "Especially with the child on the way…" Seehiiri just smiled, and rubbed the growing bulge in her belly softly.

"You know you can't keep me out of the fun," she purred, resting her head against Rhiihaaj's chest, smiling as he wrapped her in his loving embrace. "Besides," she said, looking up at him, "I want our child to have a mother _and _a father. You need to be more careful, Rhiihaaj. You… you're going to get yourself killed if you keep trying to act like a god!" Rhiihaaj looked down into his wife's eyes, remembering their marriage. They had been wed in the Anvil Mages guild, choosing to have the sermon there so that all of their friends could attend. On that day, Rhiihaaj had vowed to be with Seehiiri forever, and he intended to keep that oath.

"Seehiiri, love… I understand. It's just… I have to do this. To atone for what I did in my past, for all those people I killed." Rhiihaaj paused; the faces of his victims still plagued his nightmares. Anybody who thought assassins were lucky or cold were wrong. Rhiihaaj could remember the faces of each and every one of those he had killed, remembered their dying words and screams vividly. "I'm doing something good with my life for once. When I do these raids, I see the joy I bring these people. It helps me cope with my life so far." Sehiiri looked up into his eyes, and kissed him deeply, embracing him tightly, reveling in their closeness. She pulled away, and gazed into his eyes.

"That is why I love you," she said. Holding hands, Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri walked off into the forest.

* * *

Ok, so this chapter deals with what happens to the characters after the defeat of the Night Mother. A lot of it is pretty depressing; their victory was indeed a bittersweet one. But surprisingly, everything turned out alright for Rhiihaaj, former scum of the earth. Looks like in a few months, he's going to be a dad! lol, I wonder how he'll handle that... Anyways, I'm glad you're reading, and please review! Constructive criticism is welcome, and of course, so is praise!

See you all again soon!

-Baeowulf

PS: If you pay attention to detail, you might recognize a background character in this chapter...


	14. A Feast and a Hand

Hello again! Sorry about the long gap in updates, we just finished putting on our school play. Anyways, If you're reading this, that means that you are reading my story! And if you're reading my story, that probably means you don't want to hear me talk about it. However before I leave, I will list my reviewers.

Reviewers: Vine SLiver

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Deran stormed angrily across the stone floor of his hideout; those Khajiit were becoming a real problem to him. They had stopped three of his shipments now, three! He sighed; so many good slaves were lost. Deran was a Dunmer slaver, one of the best, and yet a couple of mangy Khajiit kept getting in his way! He sighed again; he missed the old days, the days when he could rampage through the edges of the Black Marsh, slaughtering the Argonians with his flaming sword. He laughed, remembering the look on that little Argonian girl's face when he had killed her mother all those years ago. His broad smile melted into a frown; she had been the one survivor from that raid. He hadn't expected a Shadowscale to have been in the Marsh at that time. The filthy lizard had stuck him in the gut, nearly killing him and giving him a nasty scar. Deran smiled; he had recognized the Argonian girl's scent on the Khajiit: old, but still there. His smile widened: soon, he would repay her for his disgrace. Soon.

* * *

Amori crawled out of bed, unconsciously rubbing his stump. He smiled a melancholy smile; Ka-Mala and Padfoot had really gone down the drain. When the Brotherhood had risen again, Ka-Mala had taken to drinking, sinking into depression, slowly wasting away. As for Padfoot… Padfoot had stopped eating or drinking, or even seeing anyone since she had first been burned by the sun. She had kept herself locked away in the cellar for months now, and he shuddered to think what he had to do. Ka-Mala was beyond his help; she would have to work her problems out on her own. But Padfoot… all she needed to do was feed, and she would be able to bear the caress of the sun again. Her dark thirst for blood would subside, at least for a time, and aside from a few particularly grisly nightmares, she would be able to return to a more or less normal existence. Once again, he shuddered. All it would take was a few pints of blood… the blood of an intelligent being.

* * *

Delchkahn crept slowly down the wooden stairs, hearing them creak beneath his weight, his heart pounding in his chest. He snarled in disgust; he was going to help a friend, not face a monster! He had to remind himself that despite the urges of vampires who hadn't fed in a long time, Padfoot was still his friend. Delchkahn grimaced; he would not kill a friend, even if it meant his life was forfeit. Suddenly, he heard a loud click, and a whoosh of air passed him, leaving a large weight deposited on his back. He smiled. "Hello, Padfoot," he said calmly. "How are you today?" Padfoot was clinging to his back, her skeletal hands wrapped around his shoulders, her clawed feet hooked in his leather armor. He heard her ragged breathing and shuddered: this was not the Padfoot he remembered.

"Delchkahn…" she whispered, her dry, ragged voice drifting into Amori's ear like sawdust. "Have you come to see Padfoot? Did you bring your sword? Can you end Padfoot?" Padfoot cackled, her voice sounding like the clack of bones echoing in the dark. Amori shuddered; it was worse than he thought. Padfoot had started referring to herself in the third person and laughing at the thought of her own death. In short, she was mad. Amori grimaced; he knew the madness all too well. It had festered in his mind when he had gone just a few weeks without blood; he could only imagine how it was for her.

"No, Padfoot, I didn't come to kill you." He smiled as he heard her sigh of disappointment. A certain measure of humanity returned to her whispering with it, and she climbed off of his back. She walked around in front of him, and Amori's heart nearly stopped. Padfoot's skin caved in along her ribs, and patches of fur had fallen off of her body in places. She was covered in dust and grime, and the bones in her arms, legs, and face were clearly visible. She looked like a mummy, like someone who should be dead but wasn't.

"Then what did you come for, 'friend'?" Padfoot said bluntly, her dry voice whispering through her teeth like a breeze through dry tree branches. She spat the last word, and Amori grimaced. "If you didn't come to end my misery, then why did you come? To laugh at me? To stare?" Amori shook his head, sighing, rubbing his temples. He had been planning on taking her on a normal jaunt, to drain a few pints and leave. It was obvious now that her victim would have to die. She was too withered to gain satisfaction from anything less than turning another into what she was now.

"Padfoot, I came to tell you that it's night out. I'm taking you to the prison. I'm taking you to feed."

* * *

Padfoot followed Delchkahn through the night, leaping across the rooftops with ease. She may have been withered beyond belief, but the same dark disease that kept her alive fueled her now. She could hear the heartbeats of everyone around her, she could hear the pounding of the muscle, the breathing, the flow of sweet, sweet blood, and it was driving her mad. The two dark figures sprang from roof to roof, their feet barely touching one building before they leaped to the next. Soon they were at the roof of the palace barracks, and just a few short bounds from the prison. Padfoot's heart pounded in her breast, and her lip pulled back, revealing her glistening fangs. Delchkahn motioned for her to follow, and jumped from the roof. Padfoot followed, and the two slowly crept along the wall, their feet silently padding along the ground. Soon, they reached the dusty hillside the palace was built on. They slid down its side, sloshing through the water, moving towards the sewer grate. Amori pulled a lockpick from his pocket, and deftly opened the grate blocking the entrance. The darkly clad duo crept into the shadows, silently slipping through the sewers. Finally, they reached the prison entrance. Delchkahn quickly knocked out the guard, and began checking the tabs on each one of the prisoners. Finally, he found one who was scheduled for execution in the morning. He was a heavily built Nord, and Amori smiled, sure that he would be sufficient to restore Padfoot to her former self. He motioned for Padfoot to come. She walked towards him, and he unlocked the cell door. Padfoot strode into the small cell, gazing hungrily at the sleeping Nord. A breeze ruffled the man's blond hair, pushing it away from his face. His face was young, and other than a single scar running down his face, unmarred. Padfoot felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned her head to meet Amori's steely gaze. "It's time," was all he said. Padfoot knelt down by the Nord's sleeping body… and plunged her fangs into his neck. The man grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake up. She began to suck, pulling the blood from his body in a steady stream. He didn't wake up. Her heartbeat quickened, and she began to drink his blood faster, pulling it from his body at a rapid pace. He didn't wake up. Lines began to appear on his face, and wrinkles formed on his body. Finally, just as he was about to die, he woke. He tried to scream… but he couldn't. His breath streamed hoarsely from his mouth, until finally, the last drop of blood was drained from his body. His body thudded dryly to the ground, and Padfoot looked at herself. She almost burst out laughing: her hands had flesh to them again, and her body was no longer skeletal. She felt her face, and she couldn't feel individual bones beneath her skin. She looked down… and screamed. Amori clamped his hand over her mouth, silencing her. Padfoot's eyes were wide in terror, tears streaming freely from them. The Nord's skin clung tightly to his bones, his skeleton clearly visible beneath his flesh. His mouth and eyes were frozen open in a silent scream, the cords in his cheeks looking like a ribbed surface. His eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, and his tongue was a tiny, shriveled thing in his mouth. His hands were clenched in half fists, and she noticed that his eyes… his eyes… he was staring straight at her. A single finger was uncurled from his hand; he was pointing at Padfoot. In the moment of his death, he had known his killer.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer woke up, pushing the covers from her body. "Delchkahn?" she said, confused. She looked around, and saw that Delchkahn was gone. She climbed out of bed, and pulled on a loose shirt and pants. She walked down the stairs to the second floor, and stopped briefly by Ka-Mala's room. She opened the door slightly, and saw Ka-Mala hunched over her desk, piles of bronze metal strewn all over the surface. Her eyes widened. "Ka-Mala?" she asked, worried. "Are you ok?" The response she got was a flying hammer.

"OUT!" Ka-Mala screamed. Soul-Swimmer shut the door.

"Sheesh, what's her problem?" she muttered to herself. She almost stopped by Dar-Ma and Dra-Shek's room, but that Dar-Ma and her family had moved back to help with the rebuilding of Chorrol some time ago. Soul-Swimmer continued down the stairs, and reached the first floor. She passed by Henantier and Kud-Ei's room, and tapped the door. Then she noticed the note on the door. "Out for a time; be back soon" It was in Henantier's handwriting, and Soul-Swimmer grinned when she saw a small heart drawn on the paper; obviously Kud-Ei had seen fit to add her own touch to the note. Suddenly, the main door burst open. Soul-Swimmer whipped around, grabbing Song from the counter as she did. When she turned around, she gasped: Amori was walking in, a sobbing and terrified Padfoot in his arm. Soul-Swimmer ran over to them worriedly, obviously distressed. "What happened?" she asked, looking at Padfoot concernedly.

"Th-the man… He just… He was like me! He just… oh, by the nine…" Padfoot stammered between terrified sobs, her eyes wide in fear, unable to form complete sentences. Amori looked up.

"I took her to feed," he said. Soul-Swimmer gasped, knowing what he meant. It was common knowledge that Padfoot was a vampire, and she knew that her current state meant she had sucked her first victim dry. "There was no other way. Blood madness was beginning to set in, and she was in the physical state of a mummy. If I hadn't taken her to feed, she soon would have gone beyond the point of recovery." Soul-Swimmer stared at him in horror, unable to believe that her lover had willingly sacrificed another, even to save a friend. Amori saw it in her eyes, and sighed. "I know what you're thinking, and don't worry; I took her to feed in the prison. The man was scheduled to be hanged in the morning anyways; regardless of us, he would have died." Slowly, Soul-Swimmer backed away, and Amori led their haunted friend back into the cellar.

* * *

Ka-Mala stared at the gleaming object in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It had taken her two months to get the training required to build it and to create the device, but it was finally finished. What she held was a mechanical hand. It was crafted from Elven bronze, and was a work of art in its own. Thin bands of metal formed an external skeleton, with rounded plates at the knuckles, and smooth caps adorning the fingertips. The fingers had slender, curving tubes composing their length, and tiny metal bars and wires ran inside the body, each attached to a joint. Ka-Mala laughed lightly; she felt good. She had been too preoccupied with her project for her cravings for wine to take over, too deep in concentration for anything other than what she needed. Now, the cravings were gone. By immersing her mind in this project, she had conquered her alcoholism. Ka-Mala snickered, remembering that what had made this possible were the required was the lessons on Dwemer technology she had had to take back at the University. At the end of the class, the students had been required to construct a machine using what they had learned. While Ka-Mala had all the technical knowledge, she lacked the craftsmanship skills necessary to complete the project. How ironic that her least favorite class had just helped her achieve what was, in her mind, one of her greatest accomplishments. She got up from her desk, and placed the mechanical hand in a wooden case she had bought for it. The case was custom made, and its interior was lined with velvet and carved to perfectly fit the hand. Along the bottom was a small drawer that contained delicate, finely-crafted tools for the maintenance of the hand; the very tools that had been used to create it, each in its own velvet notch. Ka-Mala smiled as she heard the soft click of the case as it closed: Amori was going to love this.

* * *

Amori led Padfoot to her bed wearily, shaking his head. She was shivering in fear at what she had done to the Nord man, and Amori could only imagine how she felt. He had never killed while feeding, and he still had nightmares about each time he had fed, dreams of the relatively innocent act made ghoulish through the lens of morality and what could have happened. He could only imagine the monsters that would plague her dreams now. Padfoot sat on her bed, shaking, and Amori took a seat beside her. The young girl pressed herself into his body, feebly trying to protect herself from the monster within her. Delchkahn thought about how young she was: at the oldest, she was nineteen, probably around eighteen. He got up, and faced the young, inexperienced vampire. There were a few things he needed to explain. "Padfoot, listen to me. I know you didn't ask for this, but you're a vampire now. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about, I was, until very recently, a vampire as well. There are a few benefits that go along with this curse. First off, you will find yourself extremely stronger than you were before, and will be able to carry about 2-3 times the weight you could before. Because of the state you allowed yourself to wither to before feeding, the blood you drained has restored you to your former state, but a most of what you have now is muscle. Your agility has been heightened as well, and you can smell a drop of blood, at times, from literally a mile away. However, if you don't feed about once every two or three days, you won't be able to go into the sun. Your body will become increasingly weak to fire, and the cravings for blood will pound in your skull, urging you to feed louder and louder the longer you go without blood. Remember: the longer you go without blood, the stronger you get, but the more dangerous and uncontrollable you become. If you feed once a day, you can lead a relatively normal life, but you will be unable to stay in one place for too long, if only for the fact that you no longer age." As he finished, Padfoot looked like she was in deep concentration.

"Wait, you said that you were once a vampire. How were you cured?" she asked, puzzled. Amori sighed, rubbing his temples.

"An old hideout was left to me by a darker relative of mine. He was a vampire, and a devout servant of Sithis. He left me an underground hideout called Deepscorn Hollow, and all of its treasures. Among them were a vampiric servant, a shrine to the Dark God, a cell for prisoners to feed on, and a flooded room. That room was a depository of rare Purgeblood salts. I used them, along with the altar in that room, to cure my vampirism." Padfoot's eyes brightened, and Amori sighed. "Unfortunately, I sealed it off months ago to prevent any other murderers or vampires from using it as a haven from which to prey on the innocent after I left." He saw Padfoot's eyes darken in sadness, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Padfoot, that place was evil. If you had seen it, you would know. The shrine to Sithis… it had human bones incorporated into its architecture. People's skulls were being used as _decorations_, Padfoot. I've heard of another cure, and trust me, that path is by far the better one to take." Padfoot looked up at him, her eyes desperate.

"Is there a way to reopen it? Can you reopen it?" Amori sighed, shaking his head.

"I was afraid you would ask that. Yes, I can unseal the Hollow. The problem is… I won't." Padfoot's eyes widened in disbelief. "Padfoot… there's a reason I sealed the Hollow. I sealed it to lock in an ancient evil. The Hollow has been in my family for generations, darkening more with each passing year. I don't care the circumstances: I could be made into a vampire again, and I would not reopen the Hollow in a thousand years." Tears began to well in Padfoot's eyes, and suddenly, she slapped him across the face, hard. Her claws left long, bleeding lines on Delchkahn's flesh. He didn't flinch. Padfoot's eyes grew angry, tears spilling from their corners.

"You bastard! You have a cure, you _used_ a cure, but you keep it locked away from the world?!" she screamed, her voice enraged. She stepped up to Amori's face, putting her face only an inch away from his. "Get out," she said. "Get out." Amori turned, and without a word, he left.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer was in her and Amori's room, looking at the paintings they of them they had commissioned that hung on the wall. She was looking at one that featured them floating in a colorful void, locked in a loving embrace, when Delchkahn burst into the room. He clutched his face with his hand, and Soul-Swimmer saw that blood was dripping from between his fingers. "Amori!" she cried, worried, rushing to his side. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Padfoot attacked me," he replied. Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened in shock, and Amori laughed. "Don't worry, I deserved it. The truth is, I have a cure for vampirism. The problem is that to get to it, I'd have to unseal an ancient evil that has been passed down through my family for generations." Amori sighed, his eyes downcast, and Soul-Swimmer began to clean his wounds with a wet rag. "It doesn't matter what happens, I'm not reopening the Hollow." Soul-Swimmer paused for a second, looking thoughtful.

"Delchkahn, I want to help Padfoot as much as you do. And while I do believe that it's unfair that you're withholding a cure, I also know that you wouldn't do so without good reason. This is hard, but if this Hollow I as bad as you say it is, you're doing the right thing." Amori smiled, and slowly, he and Soul-Swimmer moved into a deep kiss. Suddenly, Ka-Mala entered the room, slamming the door open. Soul-Swimmer and Delchkahn jumped and broke out of the kiss, blushing slightly. Ka-Mala's tail drooped between her legs, and she was blushing a bright red.

"Oh, um, maybe I'll come back later," she said, her eyes moving towards the ceiling as she walked towards the door.

"No, it's alright, come in," said Amori. "Say, what's that you've got?" he asked, intrigued by the ornately carved case in her hands. She turned around, a beaming smile spread across her face.

"Actually, it's a little something I made for you," Ka-Mala said, handing Amori the case. He took it, stared at it for a second, and opened it. He never would have expected to see what was inside. As he opened the case, he saw a beautifully crafted hand made from Elven bronze resting in a red velvet casing, and he noticed that it was a left hand about the size of his own. "Well? What do you think?" Amori looked up, eyes wide.

"I honestly don't know," he replied, bewildered. Ka-Mala smirked, and walked over to him, taking the hand out of its case.

"Well, then let's see how it works, shall we?" She fit the hand to Amori's stump, and fastened the leather straps around his arm. "Now, this might hurt a little," she warned him. Amori nodded. Ka-Mala pressed a combination of buttons, and small spikes shot out from the base of the hand and into Delchkahn's arm, electrifying suddenly as the hand activated. Amori winced, but showed no reaction. He brought his arm up, and to his amazement, began moving his new hand. He looked up at Ka-Mala, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Ka-Mala," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

Kazaka stood at the prow of his ship, leading the fleet onwards toward Cyrodiil. He smiled as he saw the mountains on the horizon of endless sea. Soon, he would no longer be merely the Crown Prince of the Tseasci. Soon, he would be the ruler of the Akavir nation of Thamriel.

* * *

Ok! So, Padfoot fed for the first time... and drained her victim completely. Amori has a cure... but he won't give it to anyone. And on a brighter note, Ka-Mala conquered her alcoholism, Padfoot isn't mental anymore, and Amori has a hand again! However, dark clouds lie on the horizon...

What will happen next? Only time will tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	15. Invasion

Hello again! This is it... what we've all been waiting for... In this chapter, Sithis' warnings shall be revealed. To find out... read on, dear reader, read on.

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Ka-Durash crouched at the edge of the ship's figurehead, reveling in the spray of the ocean in his face, the wind in his fur. He stared forward, a small grin on his face. They were making a good pace towards Thamriel, and the water sped past him at an amazing rate. He took in all he could: the glistening water, the bright, blue sky, the mountains in the distance. The Akavir would be at the Anvil port soon, and he knew that this could very well be his last day alive. A broad smile spread across his face; he couldn't wait for the chance to prove himself in combat. He had a slight build, and was smaller than an average Ka-Po Tun, and had been called a runt for his entire life by his peers. Well, now he'd show them. He'd show them all! Ka-Durash bared his teeth in a sinister grin. He could see the buildings now. Soon, very soon, glory would be his!

* * *

Amori trudged slowly down the cellar stairs, hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. It had been nearly a week since Padfoot had fed; she would need more blood. He sighed; at least she was eating and drinking again. He wondered if Rhiihaaj had gotten his letter: he'd written to him a few days ago. Amori had found out that Rhiihaaj's business was the hunting of slavers and bandits, and had asked if Rhiihaaj could collect a few bottles of blood for Padfoot. Rhiihaaj hadn't replied. Delchkahn came out of his thoughts as he reached the cellar floor, and he slowly walked forward. "Padfoot?" he called out softly. "Padfoot? Are you there?" He rounded the edge of a cupboard, and saw Padfoot lying in her bed, covers pulled over her body.

"I thought I told you to get out," she said coldly. Amori smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, but that was a week ago, Padfoot." Padfoot pulled the covers up around her head, and Amori's smile vanished. He walked over to the bed, and sat on the edge, hands in his lap. "Padfoot… I know this must be hard for you to accept. You didn't become a vampire by choice like I did, yet I get cured and you don't. Is that fair? No, it isn't. Is it fair that the Dark Brotherhood slaughtered practically your entire town to use as a sacrifice to Sithis? No, it isn't. I'm going to tell you something, Padfoot. The world isn't fair. It's not fair that Ocheeva died because of my mistake. It's not fair that I was put where I was in the Deadric war. It's not fair that I had to watch so many of my friends die at Dagon's hand. It's not fair that even after all I did for Thamriel, I am feared for my time in the Brotherhood." Amori sighed, and Padfoot turned over, pulling the covers off her head. Her red eyes glistened in the gloom, sparkling in the dim light. "I'm sorry that I can't open the Hollow for you, Padfoot. Like I said before, I wouldn't open the Hollow for anybody, even… even myself. Maybe I'm too weak, or maybe I'm strong enough not to. I hope you understand." Amori got up, and jogged back up the cellar stairs, leaving Padfoot to think about what he had said.

* * *

Henantier sighed as he woke up, folding his arms behind his head, leaning against the bed's headrest. He was smiling broadly, his tall, angular face serene and peaceful. He looked to his side. Kud-ei slept peacefully beside him, her skin glistening in the morning sun, her naked back facing to the sky. Henantier smiled wider, and crawled out of bed, walking towards the bathroom. He filled the ceramic tub with water, and crawled into it, shivering as the cold water washed over his body, bringing the tall elf fully to his senses. Henantier placed his hands together and exhaled sharply through his nose, infusing the breath with magicka. Steam rushed from his nostrils, quickly heating the water, and soon, Henantier was lying in an artificial hot-spring. He leaned back against the wall of the tub, closing his eyes with a sigh. Suddenly, the door opened. Henantier's eyes snapped open, and he saw Kud-ei walking into the room, a smile on her face. Kud-ei closed the door behind her and crawled into the tub, sliding gracefully into the hot water, draping her tail over the edge of the tub. Kud-ei slid her body over Henantier's, laying against his chest in the warm water, and Henantier wrapped his arms around her, hugging her softly. "Morning, love" Henantier whispered into her ear, and Kud-ei smiled.

"Morning." Kud-ei closed her eyes, thinking back to their time out of the guild: in other words, their honeymoon. They had been wed a couple weeks ago, moving their status from fiancées to newlyweds. The two lay that way in the water for a long while, and eventually, they began to actually bathe. After they finished their bath, they each grabbed a towel, dried themselves off, and pulled on a robe. The couple walked back into their room, and pulled on some clothes. Henantier wore a green and blue shirt with a pair of green huntsman's pants, while Kud-ei wore a blue velvet dress. Clasping hands, the two walked out of their room and into the rest of the guild.

* * *

Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri walked lightly through the streets of Anvil, Rhiihaaj in an altered suit of Brotherhood armor, and Sehiiri wearing a soft red dress. The two made their way to the Anvil Mages Guild, and as they reached the doors, Rhiihaaj rapped his knuckles sharply on the wood. They heard footsteps from inside the building, and Henantier opened the door. As he saw who it was, Henantier smiled broadly, laughing. "Rhiihaaj! Sehiiri! It's so good to see you!" Henantier pulled first Rhiihaaj, then Sehiiri into a hug, all of them smiling and laughing.

"It's good to see you too, Henantier," said Rhiihaaj, his heavily accented voice happy. Henantier smiled first at him, then at Sehiiri, and as he did, noticed the bulge in Sehiiri's belly. His eyes widened, and he smiled broadly.

"By the Nine!" he exclaimed, excited. "Rhiihaaj, Sehiri, why didn't you tell me you were expecting?" Sehiiri rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Obviously," she said, "we didn't need to." Henantier smiled, and Rhiihaaj cleared his throat.

"Um, Henantier?" he asked, laughing slightly.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Can we come in now?"

* * *

Ka-Mala jogged happily down the stairs, smiling broadly as she put a small scratch in the calendar as she passed. That was two months and a week without wine: she was clean! Suddenly, Henantier bolted towards her, smiling like a maniac. Ka-Mala froze, her body ramrod stiff, as Henantier stopped in front of her, his face about an inch from hers. "Uh, hi, Henantier," she said nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down her brow. "Ever heard of personal space?" Henantier laughed, his voice echoing through the building.

"Ka-Mala! It's Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri! They're back!" Henantier sidestepped Ka-Mala, and bolted up the stairs, not stopping when he called back happily "They're expecting!" Ka-Mala was confused for a second, but then she realized what he meant. Ka-Mala ran excitedly down the stairs, smiling. Suddenly, Henantier bolted past her, shouting "Wrong way!" as he passed. Ka-Mala laughed, and walked to the Guild's main room, opening the door casually as she reached it. As she walked in, she saw a large number of mages working and eating at the numerous tables around the guild, the sounds of many conversations filling the air. She made her way around the tables, slightly nervous and attracting a few stares (including a particularly nasty one from Carahil), looking for where her friends were. After a brief search, she saw Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri sitting at a round table, talking to Henantier and Kud-ei. Ka-Mala made her way towards her friends, easing herself onto one of the curved benches around the table.

"Ka-Mala! It's so good to see you!" exclaimed Rhiihaaj, wrapping Ka-Mala in a bear hug. Ka-Mala stiffened, eyes wide.

"Heh… you t-too, Rhiihaaj," she stuttered, inwardly cursing herself. She still hadn't conquered her nerves. Rhiihaaj laughed, withdrawing from the hug. Ka-Mala sighed, relaxing, unconsciously beginning to wring her tail in her hands.

"Still nervous as ever, I see," Rhiihaaj said, chuckling to himself. Suddenly, they heard a loud yell. They turned in surprise, and saw Delchkahn Amori sailing through the air, flying over the tables. People ducked in surprise and some jumped out of the way as he passed over them, while the others in the room laughed at the spectacle. Carahil just scowled. Amori sailed over three tables before landing gracefully on a bench at the table at which his friends sat, rattling the piece of furniture loudly. Delchkahn stood to face the room, and bowed three times, drawing applause and laughter from the room. Carahil scowled at him, and Amori scowled back, biting his thumb at her insultingly. Soul-Swimmer made her way through the crowd, rubbing her temples, smiling. She climbed onto the bench on which her lover stood, pulling him roughly to the seat.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet my friend Broken-Legs," she said sarcastically, wrapping her arms around Delchkahn's chest. The entire group had a good laugh, and started up a conversation. They reminisced on what they had all been doing lately. Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri told of their new career hunting slavers and criminals, and told of how they were expecting a child. The group talked for a long time, catching up on their lives, sharing their experiences.

"Wait; someone's missing," said Rhiihaaj, furrowing his brow in concern. "Where's Padfoot?" Amori looked down, and leaned his elbows on his table, running his fingers in between his head-spines.

"The cellar," he said grimly. "I took her on her first feeding run a few nights back, but she had allowed herself to deteriorate so far that she had to drain her victim completely. She asked how I was cured, and I told her about one of my… darker residences, the Deepscorn Hollow, an underground mansion designed as a base of operations for murderers and vampires who have given in to their darker urges. She asked if I could reopen the Hollow, and I told her no, that I had sealed it for a reason." Amori sighed, rubbing his head. "She hasn't really spoken to me since." Amori looked up at Rhiihaaj, his face calm, but his eyes desperate. Rhiihaaj knew how hard this must be for Amori: the young Argonian was a good person, and wanted to help his friend, but knew that the price for doing so was far too great. "Did you bring it?" asked Amori, his voice tired. Rhiihaaj smiled, reached into his pack, and tossed Amori two wine bottles, a grin on his face.

"Blood of slavers and bandits; no one the world really needed," he said, grinning. Amori caught the bottles deftly, using only his mechanical left hand. Rhiihaaj marveled at the device; Ka-Mala had truly outdone herself.

"One question: why do you need it so much?" asked Sehiiri, obviously confused. "I thought you weren't a vampire anymore; why do you want blood?" Amori smiled, holding the bottle of blood as though it were a fine, aged, wine.

"I'm not a vampire, but Padfoot is. I was thinking that if I could get her at least a temporary supply of blood, it would help her come to terms with her vampirism. Excuse me." Amori got up from the table, walking over to the cellar door. He opened the door, jogging down into the large room, a bottle in each hand. He reached the floor, allowing his vision to adjust to the dim light. Amori walked forward casually until he saw Padfoot. She was sitting in a wooden chair, looking at herself in the mirror, slowly brushing her hair. She sighed, and set the brush down on the desk hard, slightly cracking the wood.

"Hello, Amori," she said, sounding defeated. "What is it now?" Amori smiled, and pulled his right arm back.

"Catch," he said, and tossed the bottle at Padfoot. Padfoot's hand shot back, snatching the bottle out of the air without turning around. Amori pulled two wine glasses out of the cabinet, setting them on the round table, pulling an extra chair up for himself. Padfoot stared at the unlabeled bottle in confusion, running her hands over its smooth surface.

"You came down here to bring me wine?" she said skeptically, raising one eyebrow. Amori smiled, walked over to her, and took the bottle from her hands, popping the cork off and smelling the contents.

"Not wine," he said, smiling, "blood." Padfoot's eyes widened in horror.

"You mean… you killed somebody?" she asked, horrified, her voice trembling. Amori chuckled, and poured some of the bottle's contents into each glass.

"I didn't kill anybody; Rhiihaaj did. And besides, they were slavers and bandits; they didn't really deserve to live anyways." Padfoot's shoulders sank, not sure if she was relieved or disturbed. Amori raised his glass to his lips, and took a long sip of the blood, licking the remainder off his lips with his long, pointed tongue. Padfoot stared at him in amazement. He looked back at her, smiling. "What? Old habits die hard." Amori sighed, and got up from his chair, walking over to where Padfoot sat. He drained the rest of his cup, and placed Padfoot's on the desk next to her, corking the bottle to preserve its contents. "Look, Padfoot, I want to help you. I really do. Right now, this is the best way for me to do so. This blood won't be as sweet as if it were fresh, but it will sate your thirst and allow you to go back into the sun. Just try it out, okay?" Padfoot didn't look at him. Amori sighed, and started back up the stairs. For a moment, he stopped. "By the way, Rhiihaaj and Sehiiri are here. They're worried about you." Amori finished his thought as he continued up the steps. "We all are."

* * *

Amori walked down the streets of Bravil casually, hands in his pockets, sword hanging loosely at his belt. He was taking a walk with Rhiihaaj, catching up with the Khajiit who he had met as an enemy, but who had become a dear friend. The sun shone brightly, and puffy white clouds sailed through the perfect, blue sky. People talked and laughed, living their lives happily and without care. The two made their way to the fighter's guild; they had decided that it was a good day to train. They passed through the guild lobby, leaving a few coins on the secretary's desk. The Orcish girl thanked them emphatically, waving as they passed through the back door. Amori stood 15 yards from the archery targets, un-slinging Frostbite from his back as Rhiihaaj drew his scimitars and took his place at the wooden mannequin. Amori carefully drew back a glass-tipped arrow, listening as the bowstring tightened, and released the arrow. The arrow sped forward, whistling through the air, before burying itself in the dead-center of the target, red hay flying back from the target as the arrow pierced it and continued out the other side. Amori whistled, and ran to collect his arrow.

"Heh, looks like I'm a better shot than I thought," he said, staring at the arrow. Rhiihaaj laughed, beginning to brutally attack the wooden mannequin, chips of wood flying through the air.

"No, Frostbite's just a magic weapon that hasn't been used in a while." Rhiihaaj grunted as he slammed his scimitar into the training mannequin's shoulder, cutting all the way into its chest. "You know how we enchant things; we use the energy of souls. That bow must have gotten bored while you only had one hand." Amori chuckled, drawing another arrow from his quiver.

"I guess you're right Rhiihaaj," he said, taking careful aim. Rhiihaaj chuckled and was about to strike the mannequin when a green-flighted arrow buried itself in the mannequin's chest. Rhiihaaj laughed.

"I guess you're a pretty good shot as well!" Suddenly, they heard a scream from the docks, and the sound of the city guards mobilizing. They ran out to the front of the guild, passing a number of fighter's guild members on their way out the front, all of them in full arms. The two friends burst out the door, and Delchkahn's eyes widened: the buildings nearest the docks raged with fire, and strange soldiers burst in and out of the houses. People screamed in terror as they ran, some of them being mowed down by arrows as they fled. Slowly, Amori began to see the enemy soldiers: a row of tiger-men led the assault, their black-striped orange bodies clad in leather armor, wielding scimitars and daggers as they charged on all fours, fangs glistening in the light. Staff-wielding monkey-folk followed them, and behind them were hulking monsters of ice and snow. However, it was the troops interspersed among the force that made Delchkahn's blood run cold: golden-scaled snake men clad in black armor cut their way through the Bravil guard, expertly wielding a katana in each hand, their swords slipping between the cracks in the guard's armor with ease. Horrifyingly, the warriors would occasionally bury their long, curved fangs in the necks of their victims, draining them of a few pints of blood before striking them down and continuing on their rampage. Amori knew what they were all too well: Tsaesci, the golden-scaled akavir. Amori's blood ran cold: this was a second Akavir invasion, greater than even its predecessor in the first era. In this army, all four of the Akavir nations were present: the demonic Kamal, the Tang-Mo, the fierce Ka'Po-Tun, and Kazaka's folk, the Tsaesci. This is what Sithis had warned him about, this is who "they" were. Delchkahn Amori drew his Frostfire from its sheath and charged into the battle, barely hearing Rhiihaaj's cry for him to wait or the screams of the dying and the wounded. All Amori heard was the pounding of his heart. All he saw was the enemy. And he knew what would happen if he failed: everyone he cared about, everyone he loved, would die. Amori charged into battle, steely eyes grim with what was to come. This is what Sithis had prepared him for, this is what he had been trained to do. The Second Invasion of Thamriel had begun.

* * *

Ok, so the Four Nations of Akavir are invading! If you know about the backstory, the current Cyrodiilian empire that presides over all Thamriel was formed after the first invasion of Akavir, when Reman was able to repel the Akaviri forces (then entirely Tsaesci) and establish his own dynasty. So, now the Akavir are back, led by Kazaka, and now, they have more than just Tsaesci... they have everyone! What will happen next? Only time may tell...

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever-changing patterns.

-Baeowulf


	16. Burn

Hello people/person! After a long hiatus...i return! Chapter 16 is here!

And now, we return to our feature presentation...

* * *

Amori ran into the mass of enemies, cutting down soldiers left and right as he ran, barely even seeing his foes before he destroyed them. He sensed something behind him, and turned to see a Kamal looming over him, and immense axe raised over its head. The demon brought the axe down, and Amori's eyes widened: he had no shield! Without thinking, he instinctively brought his metal hand up to block the blow, closing his eyes, waiting for the cold embrace of death. It never came. He opened his eyes, and saw that the metal on the axe's blade had crumpled beneath his fingers, and that the Kamal wasstaring at him in shock. Without thinking, Amori yanked the axe out of the surprised demon's hands, and skewered his opponent through the chest. The Kamal screamed as Frostfire seared its icy flesh, and its body began to melt around Amori's blade. The demon fell steaming to the ground, and Delchkahn turned around to continue his fight. As he did, he was brought face to face with a Tsaesci, both swords poised to strike. The Tsaesci was about two feet away; there was no time for Amori to react! Suddenly, the Tsaesci's body lurched, and its eyes widened. An arrow was sticking out of its skull, drilled into its head right between the eyes. Amori turned around, and saw Rhiihaaj standing on a roof, a glass bow in his hands, an arrow taut in its string. Amori smiled, and ran back into the fray. He darted through them like a scythe in a field of grass, cutting down any Akavir stupid enough to get in his way. Arrows from Rhiihaaj followed him, silencing those who would seek to harm Amori forever. Suddenly, Amori stopped: he sensed a familiar presence. He didn't know why, but a chill went down his spine, and he shivered slightly. As he saw a single, black-clad form striding through the destruction, he knew what he had felt: Kazaka. The evil Tsaesci was here, alive and well. Amori grimaced, and charged his foe. Today, he thought, one of us will fall on this field. Today, only one will stand.

* * *

Padfoot sat at the chair in the cellar, staring at the glass of blood before her. It smelled so sweet: it was disgusting. Padfoot stared at the glass, the red liquid shimmering in the dim light, tempting her, _urging_ her to drink of it, to bathe her stomach in it. Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated through the walls, and a scream was heard. The building shook, and ripples spread crazily through the blood. Padfoot jumped up, wondering what was going on, and began to panic as the cellar suddenly grew warm: there was a fire! Padfoot's eyes widened, and her breathing quickened, coming in short, loud gasps. She knew that if she stayed here while there was a fire she was doomed, but she also knew that she would die if she went into the sun. Padfoot looked at the blood, and grimaced. She grabbed the glass, and drained it, quenching her vampiric thirst. Padfoot grabbed the bottles of blood, and charged out of the cellar, her heart pounding as she ran up the stairs. Padfoot closed her eyes as she smashed through the wooden door, splinters of flaming wood flying past her, the heat making her fur stand on end. Padfoot opened her eyes, and nearly vomited at the sight. Flames licked across the wooden guild-hall, devouring tapestries and ornate furniture in their path, casting a terrible orange glow on the room. Mages lay strewn across the floor like the toys of a demonic child; their bodies mutilated horribly, the stench of the burning corpses wafting up into Padfoot's nose. The mages had been massacred: they lay where they had fallen, huge gashes in their guts and throats. Some of them were speared on shards of splintered wood in the walls. Padfoot's eyes widened at the carnage, and her heart nearly stopped as she saw a familiar body among the wreckage: Caminalda. Her mouth and eyes were open, her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Blood trickled from her lips, and her stomach was a mass of shredded red flesh. Padfoot turned away, and retched onto the floor, spilling her stomach's contents onto the floor. Padfoot vomited over and over, falling to her hands and knees. Padfoot panted heavily, her eyes wide in terror. "By the nine," she whispered, scared. Suddenly, she heard a loud hissing. She got up and spun around, only then noticing that in her escape from the cellar, the bottles of blood had smashed into the floor. A tall, golden-scaled serpent-man strode towards her, his long, forked tongue flicking in and out of his grinning mouth. Her pupils contracted into tiny dots: she recognized this creature! It was just like Kazaka, only a bit larger. "Wh-what are you?" she gasped, slowly backing away, yelping in pain as she stepped onto a patch of burning wood. The snake-man laughed in a raspy voice and brandished his swords, dragging them along the ground, embers exploding up from the burning wood.

"My clan is Tsaesci, and I am a soldier of the Golden Legions," it whispered, grinning. "You look like a pretty young morssel," he hissed, his tongue flicking out of his mouth. "Your blood will be refreshing!" The Tsaesci charged forward, his maw opening to three times the size it should be able to. Padfoot jumped out of the way as he passed, her claws flicking out of her hands. Her eyes began to glow red, and her lips pulled back in a feral snarl. The Tsaesci turned slowly, his eyes widening in shock as he realized he was not fighting a normal Khajiit. "Sso," he whispered, knowing his time was near, "you have the gift." Padfoot leaped forward with a roar, flying towards the agile serpent. The Tsaesci never had a chance. Padfoot's teeth sunk into his throat, and Padfoot drank deeply of his blood. She drove him to the ground, crushing his neck between her jaws. The Tsaesci struggled and gasped as his blood was drained, spastically trying to free himself. Padfoot planted her hands on the Akavir's shoulders, and tore out his throat, the serpent's windpipe still clamped between her jaws. Padfoot spat out the organ, and stood up from the snake-man as he writhed in his death throes before going still. The red glow left her eyes, and she collapsed to the floor, panting. Blood reddened the fur around her mouth and down her neck, spilling all the way to her breast. Padfoot stared at her hands in amazement: her claws had elongated themselves, now extending a full inch beyond her fingertip when extended. She flicked them in and out experimentally, flexing her fingers as she did. She felt invigorated, and strong. Suddenly, a burning beam fell from the ceiling of the collapsing building, grazing her back. Padfoot howled in agony, as the fire singed her flesh, her back arching in pain. Her tattered shirt was now nearly gone, and her undergarments were visible beneath the shredded fabric. Padfoot grimaced, tears dripping from her eyes with pain, and tore off the shirt, knowing that the loose fabric would only slow her down. Breathing deeply, Padfoot ran at the front door of the guild-hall, and smashed out into the light.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer stumbled through the smoke, coughing, her arm in front of her face. "Sehiiri! Kud-Ei! Henantier! Ka-Mala! Where are you?!" she called out, coughing violently. She put her hand up against the wall, panting heavily, sweating in the heat. Slowly, she slid to her knees, fighting the urge to slip into sleep. Her body crumpled to the floor, and she dragged herself across the floor. She coughed violently, but gradually, she regained her breath. Soul-Swimmer pulled herself to her feet, and holding her sleeve in front of her mouth and nose, she shambled into the clouds of smoke. Smoke stung her eyes, but she kept on, squinting in the heat. Suddenly, she heard a coughing in the room next to her, and muffled sobbing noise. Soul-Swimmer tried to open the door, but found it locked. Bracing herself, she brought her leg up and smashed the door in, her foot splintering the wood easily. Kud-Ei crouched on the floor over Henantier's limp form. Tears ran from her eyes, and Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened as she saw the gash in his gut.

"Hen! Hen, get up!" cried Kud-Ei. Soul-Swimmer ran to her side, placing two fingers under the Altmer's chin. She waited for a few seconds, and noticed a slight, unsteady pulse. Kud-Ei looked up at her, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Is he…" she whispered, unable to being herself to finish the sentence.

"No, he's alive, but barely," said Soul-Swimmer, staring at the gash in Henantier's belly. Fortunately for the elf, the blade hadn't penetrated too deep. "What did this to him?" Kud-Ei coughed and rose a shaky finger, pointing to something in the corner. A golden scaled corpse lay slumped in the corner, its fingers stiff in death. Soul-Swimmer's eyes widened; an Akavir! "Come on," she coughed, tearing her sleeve into a long strip of cloth and wrapping it around Henantier's stomach, "let's go!" Soul-Swimmer and Kud-Ei dragged Henantier out of the room, and after reaching the hallway, Soul-Swimmer helped Kud-Ei to lift Henantier onto her shoulders. "Sehiiri! Sehiiri!" called Soul-Swimmer, stumbling through the smoke, Kud-Ei behind her. Suddenly, she heard something from behind a wall of rubble:

"Soul-Swimmer? Is that you?"

* * *

Sehiiri pressed herself against the door, tears of panic running down her cheeks. The room she was in was getting very, very hot, and Ka-Mala had already passed out from the heat and lack of fresh air. "Soul-Swimmer!" she cried, her voice touched with fear. "We're in here!" Sehiiri waited, biting her lip nervously. Finally, she heard a response.

"Sehiiri! Is that you?!"

"Yes, it's me!" Sehiiri shouted, smiling. "Ka-Mala's in here with me; she's unconscious! We're trapped!" For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the flames that were slowly devouring the guildhouse. Then Soul-Swimmer spoke.

"Stand back!" she yelled, and Sehiiri cautiously took a few steps away from the door. Loud thudding noises could be heard from the other side, and suddenly, the wooden door shattered. Soul-Swimmer stood in the rubble, Song glowing in her hand, a steady hum echoing from its blade. "Let's go!" shouted Soul-Swimmer over the din, her other hand pressed against her face to ward off the smoke. Sehiiri dragged Ka-Mala out of the room, and winced in pain. Soul-Swimmer walked over to her, and took Ka-Mala from her. "Sehiiri, you're expecting! Get out of here; I'll take care of Ka-Mala!" Sehiiri reluctantly handed Ka-Mala to her friend, and ran out to the roof. Soul-Swimmer watched her go, and dragged Ka-Mala towards the ladder to the roof, Kud-Ei close behind her. As she climbed up the steps to the roof, she heard a huge crack. She looked back, and saw the building collapsing around her. A huge beam struck Soul-Swimmer in the back of the head, and the world went dark.

* * *

Padfoot flew through the door, shards of wood flying around her as she flew into the sun. She tackled a Ka'Po Tun to the ground as she exited the building, and leaped off of his chest into the mass of enemies. The town guard fought futilely against the akavir, and for every Akaviri soldier that fell, two more replaced them. Corpses littered the streets, and most of them were innocents. Padfoot barely noticed them as she tore through the Akavir hordes, her claws stained red with the blood of the beastmen from across the Etheric Ocean. She leaped from soldier to soldier, her claws shredding through armor like paper, tearing out the throats of the Akavir with her bloodied fangs. A Kamal raised his shield and charged at her, bellowing a tremendous war-cry in his native toungue. Padfoot dropped to all fours and ran across the gore drenched earth like some horrific jungle cat, her fur covered in red. Just before she would have collided with the immense Kamal, Padfoot leaped high into the air, her body flying through the air with the grace of a performing gymnast. Time seemed to slow down; the Kamal sluggishly turned his massive head to follow Padfoot as she drifted through the air like a falling leaf. Padfoot felt her arms reaching down, and gripping the Kamal's head on both sides. She heard a muffled scream as her claws dug into his flesh, and a sudden jolt as she flipped through the air. Time returned to it's normal pace, and Padfoot finished her flip, landing gracefully on the ground. She heard a large thud behind her, and stood, turning around slowly. The body of the Kamal lay on the ground, bluish blood pouring from its neck. Padfoot looked down at her hands, and saw that she was holding the severed head of the Akavir soldier. Padfoot stared in shock for a moment, and the terrible bloodlust of before consumed her mind. Her eyes turned pure red, and her lips drew back in a feral snarl. Padfoot tossed the head aside, and ran forward, her eyes set on her prey: a Ka'Po Tun soldier, a scimitar clasped in each hand. By Cyrodiilian standards, he was tall, but for his race, he was a runt. Padfoot ran across the firelit ground, each bound bringing her closer to the battle that would change her life forever.

* * *

Amori dashed silently across the blood-stained ground; though he ran at a full sprint, his feet hit and left Nirn's surface without the slightest whisper. He pulled Frostbite from his back, and pulled a glass arrow along the magical bow's string. He let the arrow fly while still running, and it whistled towards it's target: Kazaka. The black-clad Akavir turned his head, and Amori saw that Kazaka had a mocking smile on his lips, his black eyes glistening in the light from the burning city. Amori stared in amazement as Kazaka's hand whipped in front of the arrow, spreading his hand wide. The green shaft sped towards his hand... and shattered. As the arrow came within two inches of Kazaka's palm, it exploded into thousands of glass splinters. Kazaka grinned demonically as the shards flew through the air, a cloud of energy dissipating in the air in front of his hand. Calmly, Kazaka drew his blade, venom dripping from its length, sending clouds of steam into the air as it hit the ground. "Long time no ssee... Masster!" Kazaka hissed as he lunged at Amori, his blade sending its deadly venom in an arc through the air. Amori drew FrostFire just in time to block Kazaka's deadly strike, and a loud ring resounded through the air as the two legendary blades met. FrostFire's blade burst in to blue flames, and the metal began to glow a bright blue. He brought the mythic blade back and spun his body, bringing Frostfire around in a full circle towards Kazaka's head, tracing a blue circle of flame around his body. Kazaka brought his demonic sword up in a cross block, staving off the tremendous blow with one hand. Kazaka grinned, his black eyes shining with malice. "Whatss wrong, Masster?" Kazaka said as Delchkahn stared in shock at his former pupil, "You not used to my new sstrength?!" Kazaka began to press forward, and Amori grunted behind the force; Kazaka's strength was equivalent to that of a oblivion-damned Deadroth!

"I'll have to say not, Kazaka," Amori grunted, slowly clenching his metal fist. Suddenly releasing the tension from his block, he allowed the force of Kazaka's strike to propel him in an arc and landed a punch with his metal hand straight across Kazaka's face. THe wicked snake-man flew backward with a loud crack, bouncing across the dusty ground. Kazaka's head snapped back into it's natural position and he sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows. Delchkahn scooped up Kazaka's sword in his metallic hand, and rolled his shoulders. "Seems like youre not the only one with new tricks!" Amori dashed towards the fallen Tsaesci, blades fanning out at his side. He brought the swords up, and brought them down on Kazaka's prone form. To Amori's great surprise, both Kazaka and his sword melted into smoke before the blades hit him, and Amori was left swiping at thin air. Amori stood and looked at the ground in shock, and spun around just in time to block a blow from Kazaka. The evil Tsaesci smiled wickedly, his white fangs glistening in the firelight. Suddenly, Amori heard a huge crash. He looked towards it... just in time to see the mages guild collapse in a heaping, flaming pile. His eyes widened in terror, and his heart pounded in his chest. "Soul-Swi--" he began to shout, turning around, but he felt a sharp, burning pain in his chest. He looked down... and saw Kazaka's black blade sticking out of his chest, the flesh around it turning a rotten black. Blood trickled from his mouth, and Kazaka leaned in close, his mouth next to Amori's face.

"Lookss like I win, Masster," he whispered evilly. Amori felt himself falling, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets as his world darkened.

* * *

OMG! Amori got stabbed! Is he dead? Maybe, maybe not...

All will be revealed..

ON THE TRAIL WE BLAZE!

lol

The winds of time shift the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

- Baeowulf


	17. Realize

I'm baaaaaaack...

It's been a long time since I updated here, and to be honest, I was starting to miss it. But, here I am, up and writing again and so very much ALIVE!

Well, lets get back to the story, but with one further message:

Special thanks to HaloGreen, for getting me writing again.

* * *

The violet-scaled Argonian stirred, shifting his arm through the thin coat of ash that covered his body and startling off the crows that had begun to land on his immobile form. The black-feathered birds cawed raucously as they fluttered off, their harsh calls echoing through the utter and complete silence that enveloped the city of Anvil. The reptilian man coughed as he pushed himself up on his forearms, sending a small cloud of stinging dust into his large eyes. Clutching the wound in his chest, the scaly Argonian stood, wincing, and examined his surroundings. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.

He stood in an utter wasteland, a shadow of what the thriving port city had once been. The rustic buildings lay in smoking ruins, burned and caved in by the rapacious storm of vengeance that had ravaged the once picturesque town, leaving nothing but a hollowed skeletal shell in its wake. Mangled and twisted corpses lay where they fell, slain in all sorts of horrible manners, often with several limbs hacked off or with their innards strewn about, feebly held close to the body by cold, clenched hands. Carrion birds perched on the roasted carapaces of the houses and shops that once stood, feasting on the macabre buffet that was laid out before them. The Argonian man wandered aimlessly through the scene of immense horror, blankly taking in the traumatic reality. Slowly, he felt himself drawn towards a particular building. The front face of the building was smashed in, and only the frame and outer walls were left standing; the roof and upper floor had collapsed onto the first floor, smashed and blackened timbers lying strewn about the foundations. Taking a step forward, his foot bumped a peculiarly shaped piece of wood. Looking down, he saw that it was a sign. The only word that was legible on it was the word _Mage_, but it was enough. An epiphanous flood of memories flashed before Amori's eyes, bringing with them his identity… and the identities of those dear to him.

"Soul-Swimmer! SOUL-SWIMMER!" he cried frantically as he ran through the smoking ruins, stumbling haphazardly over the splintered bones of the once vibrant town, searching frantically for his beloved. Amori searched the entire town, until eventually he found himself once more at the place where he started: standing above the splintered sign to the Anvil Mage's guild. Wounded and exhausted, the soot-blackened man crumpled to his knees, all vestiges of life drained from his body. As the fallen warrior sank into despair, however, he noticed a blue glint shining from the rubble. Amori scrabbled across the rubbish strewn about the dusty ground, and brushed away the ash from the glistening blue spot to reveal an extremely familiar blade, a blade that rang with a clear, clarion note as Amori's metal hand struck it's surface: Song. Lifting the blade, Amori's brow quivered, and his eyes narrowed as he picked up the peculiar odor carried by perfumes worn by Dunmer, and noticed the odd hacks and scorch marks that had rent a hole in a pile of timbers.

The Argonian stood, slipping Song across his back, the blade oddly fit in the spot designed for his own personal blade, and set off to search for the dark elf with the flaming sword.

* * *

Padfoot crouched in the rubble of a shattered home, grimacing in agony as stray rays of sunlight shone through the thin cracks and shone upon her unprotected flesh. She didn't know if the slight rays would kill her, but she did know one thing: they hurt like the fires of Oblivion itself. Suddenly, the planks above her shifted, letting larger quantities of light through. The pale khajiit hissed in the pain that was life, and shied away into the darkness, her mind consumed by the agony that constituted her existence. A dark, humanoid shadow blocked the hated light, a serpentine tail coiling about its legs. A hand reached out to her, brassy and glinting in the pale morning sunlight. The Khajiit's drew back, hissing like a wildcat. Suddenly, she was soaked, reddish fluid dripping off her face and running into her mouth. The pain subsided slightly. Eagerly, she began to lap the liquid out of her fur, and as she did, the pieces of her shattered mind reconsolidated into a single whole.

"… Amori?" she whispered, coming to her senses. Padfoot shook her head, clearing her mind of the blood-frenzy she had experienced before, during the battle. The Argonian stared down at her, his bronze hand outstretched, a grimace spread across his face.

"They took her…" he whispered, murder in his voice. "They took all of them. You will help me find them, Padfoot." Padfoot scowled at the Argonian.

"I appreciate your help in bringing me to stability, Amori," she said, choosing her words carefully, "but don't you think you've brought me enough trouble? I just wanted to live out a normal life, and now, because of you, I'm cursed with this… this… _disease_." Padfoot spat the word, as though it tasted foul in her mouth. "Why would I help you?"

"Because," the argonian said slowly, "if you do, 'll break the seal.

* * *

Soul-Swimmer stirred, her eyes slowly opening and revealing her surroundings to her bleary vision. A lance of pain shot through her head, and she felt a surprising warmth in the center of her scalp. She was sitting. Moaning softly, she tried to stand, only to find a that a peculiar force was holding her in place.

Her eyes opened.

She was in a dark, dank cell, somewhere underground, the very air seeming to crush down on her body from all angles. A thin layer of misty blue fog coated the floor, and the walls were lightly covered in a layer of greenish algae. She was seated in a sturdy, oaken chair, bolted to the floor by metal brackets fastened to the legs. Thin, slightly barbed chains ran around her body, coiled around her midsection before wrapping around her arms, securing them behind her back, and running over her shoulders and back through the holes in the chair before wrapping down about the smooth wood to secure her legs in place. A heavy piece of metal was fastened around her kneck, pressing down on her shoulders, with the single, long length of chain fastened to a large steel ring in the back. Soul-Swimmer winced as the tiny barbs on the chain drew thin lines of blood on her kneck, shredding the collar of… the ornate dress she wore? Soul-Swimmer jerked about in the chair, looking around, examining herself. She was clad in an ornate, azure dress, with skin-tight sleeves and collar, and an oriental-style body-piece. A long, blue skirt ran from her waist to the floor, covered in golden markings and patterns. A strange sense of dread washed through her body, though she hadn't the faintest idea why. It was almost as if some long-forgotten memory had been aroused by the dress and the chain and the chair, some vague familiarity warning her to run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest, darkest crevace she could find and never to emerge again. She racked her brain, searching frantically for the answer, until finally, she realized where she had last seen this dress.

It had been on her mother's corpse in Morrowind.

She tried to cry out, but the metal ring around her kneck tightened, pressing the barbed chain into her flesh, cutting off the air, silencing her, and all that she could utter was a soft gurgle of pain.

A faint chuckling echoed from behind her, and a voice, an all too familiar voice accompanied with the scent of sulfur and a red-orange glow, uttered short, terrible greeting.

"Looks like our guest has finally awoken. I'ts been a long time, little girl."

* * *

Ah, looks like Soul-Swimmer's in trouble again! Honestly, how she manages to get herself tied to chairs in the clutches of villains so often I have no idea... *whistles idly

Anyways, looks like a villain from the past has returned, back once more to seek revenge against the one that got away!

Stay tuned for more updates in the future!

Sincrerely

- Baeowulf

_The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns._


	18. Choice

Hello again everybody! It's been a while since I've been up here, and I am glad to be back. Not sure when the next chapter will be up; kind of on a day to day basis as of right now. Anyways, without further ado, we return to our feature presentation...

Soul-Swimmer's breath caught in her chest as the mysterious dunmer stalked about in the shadows behind her, idly pacing up until he was directly behind her. She felt his hot breath against her neck, and tiny beads of sweat rolled down her scales as the odor of brimstone grew more intense. She tried to speak, but again the wires tightened, their sharp barbs cutting slightly into her flesh. The dunmer placed his hands on her shoulders, and slowly ran them down over her body before bringing them up and cupping her chin, lifting one of her lips with a gloved finger. Padfoot was terrified; all of this, his voice, the sulfurous odor of brimstone, the slight scent of blood on his breath… all of it hinted at some dark memory long suppressed, urging to break free, calling for her to run, to hide, to find the darkest corner in the most remote reaches of Thamriel and curl up into a ball, sequestered from the world. The dunmer chuckled, shifting one of his hands and caressing her neck, tapping the metal barbs ever so slightly.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten, little one," he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. "A little house in Morrowind, the stench of that wretched little swamp village burning… your mother's scream as I tore out her heart? Your father's death at my hands?" The dunmer shifted his body around so his head was just within her view, his thin lips in a mock pout. "I thought I would have made quite the impression. Soul-Swimmer felt the adrenaline coursing in her veins, but she was paralyzed; something about him was linked to her past, to her parents' death, but the memory just wouldn't surface. The dunmer grinned, and with a whisper of "perhaps this will help?" drew his sword. The long, straight blade burst into flames as the ebony claymore was released from its bindings, the deadric runes inscribed into the blade glowing bright red in the heat of the inferno.

Without warning, a rush of memories flooded Soul-Swimmer's mind as the scent of brimstone filled her nostrils, the wisps of smoke stung her lungs, and the bright light which nearly blinded her in contrast to the near complete darkness. Once again, she was a helpless little girl watching her village burn… and the dark elf with the flaming sword hack apart anything that moved. Her eyes widened in shock at the realization, and the dunmer grinned, his unusual cat eyes shone in the dark.

"So you do remember then?" he whispered, his grin widening sadistically. Soul-Swimmer's breath quickened, and she managed to whisper a reply.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered meekly, the confident warrior she had been gone in the face of this old terror, one who had plagued her dreams for years.

The dunmer smiled and took a step back, rubbing his chin as though admiring his work. "My group and I have been contracted by the Akavir, and for quite a considerable sum." Soul-Swimmer stared at him, not quite understanding. He chuckled, and leaned in, putting his face mere inches from hers. "Don't you see, lovely? You're bait for a certain Argonian warrior!" The vile dunmer laughed as Soul-Swimmer's expression quickly turned from confusion to horror, reveling in the cunning of his plot. "Of course, since he'll take a while to get here, we get to have a bit of fun first!"

Padfoot stared at the violet-scaled Argonian in shock as the realization of what he had just said sunk in.

"Break… break the seal? On the hollow?" Amori nodded, his eyes grim with determination. For the first time since she turned, Padfoot saw a ray of hope in her otherwise bleak existence: if the hollow was opened, it would mean a cure for the wretched disease that kept her from the life giving rays of the sun unless she fed off the blood of other living beings.

"If it means that you will help me save Soul-Swimmer, then yes," he replied, his gaze steady. Suddenly, he noticed something behind Padfoot: a Ka'Po'Tun, one of the Akaviri tiger men, lay slumped on the ground in the rubble behind her. He was rather small for his race, but his most surprising feature was that he was, in fact, still alive. "Who's this?" Amori asked, motioning to the soldier. Blankly, Padfoot turned her head to look at the man, confused. She stared at him for a moment, not replying.

"I… I don't know…" she said slowly, trying to recall the events from during her blood rage. "I went into some kind of frenzy last night… during the battle… I don't remember much." Amori grinned, revealing a few wickedly sharp teeth.

"Well, it's a good thing you left one alive," he said, grinning. "Perhaps he can answer a few questions."

Voranis skulked outside the stone door, bored that he had been posted on watch in a hideout that was obviously quite safe. The brutish dunmer was huge, standing at least seven feet in height, and a massive axe was strapped to his back. The dunmer woman who leaned against the wall across from him grinned slightly as another set of muffled screams from the Argonian woman Deran was working with issued from behind the door. Unlike her sulky companion, she was slim and petite, dressed in flowing black and red robes with a black hood shading her slight features. Voranis scowled at her, annoyed.

"Why do you keep laughing, Vera?" he asked, shifting his stance slightly. The dunmer woman looked at him, smiling.

"Oh, just wondering when the boss will give me a round," she says, flexing her fingertips. "I've got some new spells I've been working on, and this little Argonian seems to provide the perfect test subject." Voranis shook his head, his scowl deepening in his irritation.

"Bah, you wizards and your magic," he muttered, remembering the good old days when a slaver or a bandit could just smash someone's skull in and be done with it. "I don't see why we don't just kill her and be done with it; it seems like we're wasting our time here." The screams in the room died down to whimpers of pain, before going silent. Deran walked out of the room a few moments later, wiping bloody water from his hands.

"We don't just kill her, Voranis, because she is valuable bait, and because she owes me a debt of humility, which I intend to exact in blood. With her here, we can lure Amori directly to us; he won't even be able to put up much of a fight!" The dark elf grinned, drawing a line on the stone wall with a trail of blood. "We should contact the countess of Leyawiin… she'd probably like to get in on the fun!" He turned to Vera, still grinning slightly. "Vera, why don't you send a couple of your Fleshwalkers out to find our Argonian friend? After all, we wouldn't want him to get lost!" The dunmer woman smiled, relishing the opportunity to put one of her creations to use.

"I have just the thing."

Hmm, looks like Soul-Swimmer's in quite the predicament, and Amori and Padfoot have something sinister headed their way! What happened to the others... well, only time will tell.

The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.

- Baeowulf


End file.
